Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq
by Caesar Augustus Plutarch
Summary: Based on a PPMB Iron Chef challenge that asked 'What If' both Morgendorffer parents were lawyers. This is my take on the question.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All rights to the characters and story universe are retained by the copyright holders.

Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.

Chapter 1

_California's Northern Coast, Summer 1978_

Helen's long brown hair was swirling around her head as the old pick-up truck rattled its way down the two-lane country road. The beaded leather band across her forehead doing little to keep wildly fluttering tresses from her eyes but the cooling breeze felt too good to consider winding up the window.

"I've been thinking," she said turning her face to her husband, Jake.

He inwardly braced himself. 'I've been thinking' was Helen's usual opening salvo announcing a major life change for the two of them. It was the harbinger of them moving to a commune in Colorado after they graduated from Middleton College. It presaged their move a few years later to Oregon before landing in California. She declared that, despite her earlier tirades against the institution, she wanted to marry him by uttering those words first. The phrase prefaced her proclamation a few months ago that she was disenchanted with the barely scrapping by, hand-to-mouth lifestyle they had been living for the last six years and that she was going to get on with her life by getting a law degree.

"Oh," he carefully said. "What?"

"I think you should go to law school with me," she replied.

Jake burst into laughter. Of all the things she could have said, few could have been more surprising.

"I'm serious," she said.

Jake swerved slightly to avoid a pothole. "C'mon, Helen. Laying aside the fact we don't have the bread for both of us to go to school, can you seriously see me in a court room. Would you want an idiot like me defending you?"

Helen rapped him on the shoulder with enough force to make him yelp. "Dammit, Helen," Jake snapped. " That hurt and in case you haven't noticed, I'm driving."

"You-are-not-an-idiot," she ground out. "I wouldn't have married a moron so stop saying that about yourself."

"Just ask the Old Man," he retorted.

Helen rolled her eyes. "Jake, you're twenty-eight. Your father, Buxton Ridge, all of that was a long time back. Let it go. "

Jake sighed. God knew he wanted to move on, just forget everything that happened before he was eighteen but he could not. Any little mistake he made instantly brought back the memories of Mad Dog Morgendorffer, his father, or his main tormentor from military school, Corporal Ellenbogen ridiculing him endlessly. They clung to his psyche like barnacles.

"Can you honestly see me in a courtroom," Jake repeated.

"No, I can't," replied Helen calmly.

"Then why do you think I should become a lawyer?" he incredulously asked slowing down as they approached their home.

She waited until he made the turn into the driveway of their small cabin. "You've been helping me prep for the LSAT," she replied as he turned off the truck. "You know as much as I do."

Jake hopped out and grabbed the box of groceries from the truck bed. "Yeah but if you don't think I'd make a good lawyer why in the world should I go to law school?"

Helen slid out of her side. "What I said was that could not see you in a courtroom, sweetie," she clarified. "I don't think that you would be very good at verbal arguments but the fact of the matter is that most attorneys spend their entire careers without ever appearing before a judge. You have other traits, tenacity, diligence, patience, empathy, an eye for detail, and a basic kindness that I think would work well for you in the legal profession or are you that enthused about working as a fishing boat roustabout?"

"I'm a deckhand," Jake retorted.

"For how much longer?" she asked. "The fishing industry is dying around here. So is timber. We are going to have to move soon anyway so why not move forward betting on our skills instead of looking for just another job somewhere?"

Jake followed Helen through the door to their home. There was not much to see inside. Through an open door of a small bedroom a large bed, and an old bureau could be spied. The slightly larger room that served as parlour and kitchen was all but filled by a tattered sofa of questionable comfort, a coffee table and a dinette set.

They had rejected the materialism of their parents but Jake could not stop the wave of depression that washed over him. The efforts of four years of college and six years of work yielded so little.

Helen watched him. She knew that her comments on the bleak economy of the area hit home with Jake. He worried endlessly about money. A decade of exposure to the ideas of the counterculture had in reality done little to change Jake's basic conservativeness. He agreed philosophically with her about the equality of the sexes but in his heart-of-hearts, he still saw it as a man's responsibility to take care of his family. That they were struggling just to make ends meet gnawed at him.

"I was thinking about getting a MBA," he finally said laying the box on the kitchenette's counter. "After you finished law school. By going back to school at night part time."

"Not a bad idea," Helen said. "Coupled with a law degree, it would open a lot of doors."

Jake shook his head sending fragments of a half-formed fantasy into oblivion. "Forget it. The bottom line is that with what we have saved and with me working my butt off, and you getting a part-time job, we might, just might mind you, be able to get you through school with the help of some financial aid but there is just no way we can afford the both of us in school at the same time."

Helen began to put the groceries away. Jake waited for a moment before starting to haul foodstuffs from the box also. He did not like stepping on Helen's plan but the realities were what they were. They had and/or could borrow or earn x dollars, twice that amount was simply out of the question.

He looked over at his wife but she remained silent, refusing to meet his eye.

"Just great," he thought. "Now's she's mad at me but what the hell can I do? Rob a bank?"

The box was soon emptied of food. Jake broke the seals and folded it flat. Without a word, he went outside taking it around to the back of the cabin where they stored the recyclables. Dropping the flattened box down, he stared out at the woods. A couple of rabbits were feeding at the forest's edge while the vague shadow of something larger moved along a trail deeper into the trees. The urge to grab a backpack and follow what ever it was seized Jake but after a tentative step he stopped and gathered himself. However Helen chose to react, whether it be an argument or the silent treatment, he would brave it. After watching the shadow disappear into the wood, Jake turned back to the house.

Helen was sitting on the sofa when he reentered the cabin. She saw him plaster a small smile on his face but he could not force the wariness from his eyes.

"Jake, if there was a way that we could afford the two of us in law school at the same time, would you consider it?" she asked.

Jake sat down beside her. "Yeah, I would," he answered taking her hand. "But I'm sorry, honey, we just cannot afford it even at a public university."

"There is a way," she replied.

"Oh?" he asked.

Helen took a deep breath. "My father. He would pay for my part."

Jake blinked several times. Helen's relationship with her father was not as bad as was his with Mad Dog, they were, at least, still speaking to each other but it was a point of honour with her that she had not asked her father for anything since her college graduation no matter how dire were their financial straits. For her to even consider such a thing astonished Jake She really wanted him to attend law school with her .

Jake raised her hand to his lips gently kissing the knuckles. "Are you sure to want to do that?" he asked.

"Want to? No," she replied. "But neither do I want us scrapping by ten years from now either."

She leaned back onto the cushions before continuing in a tired voice. " I thought that we were pioneers, you know. That's what I get for attending a Mennonite college. I should not have embraced their ideals,"

"What are you talking about?" Jake asked.

Helen ruefully smiled. "I really thought that people would see how we were living, how we were adopting peace and love, rejecting violence and greed, the communal sharing, the simplicity of having and wanting only what was truly needed to get by, living in harmony with the earth then they would follow our example into a brighter future but we couldn't even keep our commune together for two years."

"Constant harassment by The Man drove everyone away," Jake snarled.

"That didn't help," Helen agreed. "But what killed it was too many wanted a free ride. They professed to be against cupidity but in reality they were plain lazy. They wanted someone else to work to provide them with food and shelter while they laid around smoking grass."

Jake nodded slowly. The commune was a dream for Helen but the truth for him was that he never liked it. He knew that he was little more than a poseur. Under the shaggy hair and sideburns, he remained a small town boy from Pennsylvania who was more at home at a county fair than a anti-government protest or in a room full of stoned hippies.

He pulled her legs onto his lap. Flipping her shoes off, he began to massage her feet. Helen purred in pleasure. After ten hours standing behind a counter at a health food store, Jake's fingers were better than sex and chocolate covered strawberries.

"You don't have to crawl to your old man for me," he said quietly.

"Not for you, for us, " she replied unhurriedly her concentration more on the aching leaving her feet than on her husband's voice. "And its not crawling. Every time I talk to Dad he has let me know that he is willing to pay for my return to school as soon as I give up the 'bohemian nonsense' as he puts it."

She did not add that her father's proclamation also always included an offer to pay for a divorce if she was tired of being shackled to a pinko flake.

Jake nodded slowly as his hands moved up to her calves. "If he's willing to pay for your half, I guess we can give it a try," he said less than excitedly.

Once again he would follow where Helen lead.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer; All rights to the characters and story universe remain with the copyright holders

Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.

Chapter 2

_Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, Late Summer 1979_

Ambrose Powell Hill Barksdale III, 'Trey' for political purposes back when he was running for public office but 'Porky' to his few intimates since his high school days , was surprised to find his son-in-law not only awake but fully dressed sitting on the back veranda sipping coffee his eyes locked on the mountains covered in the wispy fog of early morning. He and his daughter had only been in Virginia two days yet Jake looked to have already adjusted to the three hour time difference from the west coast.

Ambrose despised Jake from a distance for many years. The reasons were manifold: shacking up with his daughter, for being a hippie, and for not serving in the military. To see his daughter again after such a long absence, Porky reluctantly agreed to allow them to stay at 'Mossy Creek' the Hill's ancestral home for a couple of weeks before they began law school. In his mind, having Jake under his roof was a small price to pay to be able to reconcile with his middle daughter. Life, however, is filled with the unexpected. Once Ambrose finally met Jake, he found the young man to be genial, polite, intelligent if not particularly deep and respectful. Helen told him how hard a worker Jake was and Ambrose saw how well he treated his daughter. After years of detesting a man he never laid eyes on, Ambrose found to his surprise, that genuinely liked Jake.

"It's quite a view, isn't it?" Ambrose asked.

Jake snapped out of his reverie. "Yes, sir, it is," he quickly stammered.

Ambrose eased his bulk down onto a chair setting his own coffee mug onto the small table between him and Jake. "See that mountain there?" he asked pointing in the distance. "That's West Virginia."

He swung his hand to the north-east. "Now if you climb to the top of that mountain to the left there, you can see the Potomac River and Maryland."

"I didn't realize that we were that close to either state," Jake admitted.

"Close," the older man mused. "Yeah, I reckon these days with automobiles, the interstates and the like we are fairly close but back when I was a boy they seemed mighty far away. Not many cars at all and what few roads there were weren't all that good and none of them were paved. More then a few people got to and from their homes in the hollows by traveling up and down creek beds."

"Almost sounds like another century," Jake said politely.

Ambrose smiled. "Or even two. My great-great-great grandfather, Robert Barksdale built this house in 1791 yet his son would have been at home in my boyhood. Change came slowly to these mountains. Dad was ten when Granddad had indoor plumbing installed. Electricity didn't get added until after I got discharged from army in '45."

"What was the biggest change?" Jake asked.

"Well, the war, of course," replied Ambrose.

"World War II?" asked Jake.

Ambrose chuckled. "Son, when a Southern says 'The War' he means the War for Southern Independence what you Yanks like to call the Civil War. Could be that a relative of yours traded shots with great-granddad a time or two."

"Helen mentioned that the Barksdales have been in Virginia since colonial days," Jake said.

"1662, to be precise," interrupted Ambrose

Jake nodded than continued. "But mine only goes back to 1889 here in America and that's my Mom's family. Grandpa Morgendorffer didn't come to America until 1921."

"Mercy, you're practically an immigrant yourself," Ambrose joked. "Morgendorffer is what? German? Swiss?"

"Alsatian," Jake clarified. "After the Treaty of Versailles control of Alsace passed back to France. It wasn't the warmest place after that for a young man who had proudly fought for his Kaiser so Grandpa came to America. One former enemy spurned him, another welcomed him."

"So then it was my father and you're grandfather who traded shots," Ambrose said.

"Looks like they both missed," Jake deadpanned.

Ambrose laughed before turning his attention to his coffee. It had cooled to the perfect temperature so he remained quiet savoring the simple delight of his brew. Jake was glad of the reprieve. His father-in-law made him nervous. He feared saying or doing the wrong thing angering the elder Barksdale into changing his mind about funding Helen's legal education.

The harsh ring of a telephone cut jaggedly through the peaceful fabric of early morning. Jake heard the quick footfalls of Dinah, one of the Barkdale's servants, scamper across the kitchen floor. The ringing stopped abruptly. Moments later, she poked her head out of the door.

"Who in the world has the audacity to call me at five-thirty in the morning, Dinah?" Ambrose asked.

"It's for Miss Helen's young man," she replied "It's your momma. Your daddy's awful sick in the hospital."

"Excuse me, sir," Jake said rising from his chair.

"Of course, my boy," he replied as Jake disappeared inside.

Ambrose did not intentionally eavesdrop but he turned in surprise when less then a minute into the conversation Jake's voice rose in argument.

"Dad can rot there," he growled into the phone. Jake quickly moderated his tone after he caught his father-in-law's staring at him. The strident tenor if not the words continued to catch Ambrose's ear. The only thing he heard clearly was a heartfelt 'I love you, mom' before Jake hung up.

The younger man's features were tight but otherwise unreadable to Ambrose when he returned to the veranda dropping back into his chair.

Ambrose sipped his coffee patiently. Some folks, he knew, would tell you their whole life story upon meeting you. Others would drop hints like breadcrumbs in the forest allowing someone with a good memory to reconstruct their biography. Others still give away nothing. Usually those were the one's with something to hide or something from which they were running. Jake, he had pegged for the last sort.

"Son," he began gently. "I don't reckon you would've come back out here if you really didn't want to talk."

"Son," Jake chuckled without humor. "You know, I can't recall my dad ever calling me that or anything resembling it. If he had to point me out for so reason he would usually say 'that boy there' or 'him' usually".

Ambrose shifted uncomfortably. He loved his daughters but he could not hide the fact that he regretted not having a son. He could not imagine having a boy and not shouting the fact from the rooftops.

"I'm sure he loves you," he ventured

Jake rudely snorted.

"Every father and son have some difficulties," Ambrose said.

"Have mercy, Daddy, don't get him started about his father," a bathrobe and slipper clad Helen said as she stepped out from the kitchen clinging to a coffee mug. "I don't need that before I've even eaten breakfast."

"Will miracles ever cease," Ambrose said expansively the delight of his reunion with Helen evident in every syllable. "You're awake before noon. Good morning, sweetie. "

"Good morning," she mumbled. "Who called so damn early."

"Mom," Jake replied simply.

"Your mother?" she asked. "Why?"

"Mad Dog's in the VA hospital in Philadelphia," he replied.

"Who's Mad Dog?" Ambrose asked.

"Mad Dog is my father," Jake answered.

"What's so wrong with him that Ruth felt the need to call at the creak of dawn?" Helen quickly asked before her father could put more questions to Jake.

"He's dying," Jake coolly replied.

Ambrose shivered chilled by Jake's utter lack of emotion. He himself had kept a brave public face when his father died but in private he wept for days.

"Is there anything I can do?" He asked in concern. "I have been out of office for a few years but I still have contacts at the VA and the Defense Department."

Jake shook his head. "No, thank you, sir," he replied. "I'm sure they are doing all they can."

"Will you be going with him to Philadelphia?" Ambrose asked Helen.

Jake spoke before she could. "I haven't seen or talked to Mad Dog in eleven years. I see no reason to now."

Ambrose paused for a few moments eyeing Jake speculatively before nodding his head slowly. "Son. I don't know the history between you and your father."

"It's short if not too sweet," Jake snarled. "I was born a week after Private Morgendorffer, U. S. Army shipped out to Korea. By the time Sergeant Morgendorffer retuned from battle and a stint in a Red Chinese POW camp, I nearly three. He was a genuine war hero and one mean, miserable bastard. I endured ten years of hell at his hands until he dumped me in a military school paying others to continue to abuse and ridicule me."

Jake leaped to his feet. "You can damn well fester where you are, old man!" he shouted more or less in the direction of Philadelphia. "I hope you don't die easy!"

He kicked a stool before leaping over the veranda's railing onto the dew laden grass. Without a backward glance, he stormed into the woods. Wordless, An astonished Ambrose and his daughter watched him disappear amongst the trees.

"What in tarnation is wrong with that boy?" Dinah asked from the kitchen door.

"His father's on his death bed," Ambrose replied.

Dinah looked at the footprints left in the wet grass and shook her head. "Peculiar way of showing grief, if you ask me," she muttered moving back into the house.

"Daddy," Helen hesitantly began.

Ambrose patted his daughter's hand. "Your Jake might have some problems but I don't think he's crazy or anymore crazy than the rest of you hippies."

"He's just.." Helen started.

"Sweetie, don't try to explain a relationship that neither you and I are really privy to," he said kindly. "Just have Jake an overnight bag ready when he gets back. Yourself one too if you're going with him and I think you should."

"Daddy, you heard him," Helen said. "He's not going to Philadelphia."

Ambrose stood. "I know people so trust me on this, daughter, he's going if for no other reason than his momma wants him there."


	3. Chapter 3

**Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.**

Chapter 3

_Veterans Administration Hospital, Philadelphia Pennsylvania_

_Late Summer, 1979_

Ruth Morgendorffer did not realise that she was listening to the softly echoing footfalls until they stopped just outside of the room. She quickly glanced at her sleeping husband before turning her stare to the door. For the longest moment, nothing, but with an almost palatable reluctance, it swung slowly open and Jake stepped through.

With a small gasp, Ruth darted across the room seizing her son in a fierce, rib-creaking hug burying her face in his chest. "Jakey," she whimpered repeatedly as her tears soaked his shirt.

Jake briefly noted the many gray hairs that were not there when he last saw his mother before lowered his face to the top of her head as he wrapped his arms around her. A whispered "I'm so sorry" came on the heels of an "I love you" before Jake surrendered to his emotions. Love and guilt at the eleven-year separation smashed through the dam of his reserve freeing a torrent of tears.

For several minutes, they clung to each other unmindful of the world around them. Only their long-delayed reunion mattered as each tried to pour a decade into their embrace, each endeavouring to shed a mountain of remorse.

Helen quietly slipped past them. She thought to make herself known to Ruth whom she had never met but could not intrude on mother and son. Introductions could wait. After eleven years what was a few more minutes. Instead she turned her attention to the sleeping man on the bed. A look of sympathy came across her face when she spied her father-in-law. With a sad shake of her head, she sat down in the room's only other chair just inside the doorway.

It was a soft moan from Mad Dog that finally separated the clinging pair. Jake took an unbelieving step forward as his mother sat back by her husband's side. The man on the bed did not resemble the father he had turned his back on years earlier. In his absence, an emaciated, gray-hued carcass replaced the robust former soldier. Vigour and health were gone. Muscle seemly disappeared. The beer fed paunch had vanished. Only skin draped over bone remained, a network of veins protruding from the scant flesh on his bony hands giving any hint that a heart still beat somewhere within the wasted frame.

"Jesus," Jake muttered.

Mad Dog's eyes glacially opened. He almost smiled as he weakly patted Ruth's hand. It was not until turned his head that he saw Jake. Instantly what love shone in his eyes for his wife vanished.

"Hi, Dad," Jake tentatively said stepping to his father's side.

"What are you doing here?" Mad Dog wheezed.

"Mom asked me to come," Jake replied. "She said that you were …sick."

"Dying, you mean," Mad Dog weakly hissed. "And you came running all the way from California to watch the fun."

"No, Dad," Jake answered. "I was in Virginia and I was hoping to see you before you died."

Mad Dog snorted but the fit it triggered destroyed its derisive effect. Mad Dog rolled on his side as deep coughs racked his frail body. Jake and Helen looked on in alarm as light droplets of bloody spittle stained the white sheets and the handkerchief that Ruth brought to her husband's mouth. Jake was on the verge of calling for a nurse when a red-faced Mad Dog finally took a long raspy breath. After a deeper smoother breath, he eased over onto his back, his head sinking to the pillow.

Jake though that his father would fall back to sleep in the wake of his attack but after a few moments Mad Dog spoke back up.

"What's in Virginia?" he asked.

"My In-Laws," Jake patiently replied.

Mad Dog laughed. "I wouldn't have thought that there was any girl desperate enough to marry you."

Jake looked over at Helen. She smiled encouragingly back. "I'm sure Mom told you that I had gotten married," Jake answered patiently.

Mad Dog snorted again. "I wasn't sure a 'commitment ceremony' was a real marriage or not," he shot back. "How long did it last?"

"We still together," Helen snapped leaping to her feet.

"This is Helen, my wife," Jake said extending an arm toward her.

Mad Dog squinted but could not bring her into focus. "Where are my damn glasses?" he asked peevishly.

Ruth quickly retrieved his spectacles. Mad Dog impatiently snatched them from her. Ramming them on his face, he saw Helen for the first time. The nasty comment that he had began died on his lips when he noticed that just how unexpectedly attractive Helen was. Mad Dog had a liking for the ladies.

"You could've done better," he said to her.

"I'm happy," Helen replied firmly.

Not finding a biting comment that would satisfy both his bile and his sense of chivalry, Mad Dog turned back to Jake. For several long moments, they simply stared at each other. Jake placed a hand on his father's forearm but Mad Dog shook it off.

"So what do you want?" He sharply asked. "Some touchy-feely reconciliation?"

Jake forced the hurt down. "No, Dad. I don't expect that to happen."

"So why are you here then?"

"Mom asked me to come," he repeated.

"Always were a momma's boy," his father grunted.

Jake narrowed his eyes but his voice remained calm. "All right, I did come for another reason," he said. "I'd like some answers."

Mad Dog hooted. "Why were you so mean to me, Daddy?" he said in a sarcastic falsetto. "Why didn't you get me a pony? Why did you send me to military school?"

"Yeah, why did you dump me in Buxton Ridge?" Jake asked undaunted by his father's jibes. "And why did you tell me that you would pay for my tuition at Middleton then refuse to do so?"

"America was at war, boy," his father replied. "You needed to be in uniform not hiding out at college with a bunch of hippie peaceniks."

"Must have pissed you off royally that I managed to work my way through," Jake retorted harshly, his control on his anger slipping.

"Didn't surprise me," Mad Dog shot back. "Like every other coward from your generation, you'd do anything to avoid serving you country."

Jake bit back his reply. Instead, he took a long breath. And then another, smaller one. He did not want to fight with his father. So many years had passed and there was so little time left. He searched his memory for some moment that they both could smile about, something to ease the tension. He could not find one.

"I don't want to argue with you, Dad," he said.

"You never did," Mad Dog replied triumphantly. "Always was a wimp. Jeez, you even got beat up by girls."

"Lucy Sands was bigger than I was," Jake said remembering the incident in the fifth grade. "And I couldn't hit a girl even if she was hitting me."

Mad Dog laughed without humour. "Should have packed you off to military school right then and there. Not that it did any good in the end. Look at you. Twenty-eight years old and just a long-haired bum."

"He's not a bum," Helen said forcefully. "He's a decent, hard-working, gentle, loving man."

"Yeah, and he still needs women to stand up for him," Mad Dog maliciously replied. "First it was Ruth and then some teachers and now you. He's got all the backbone of Jell-O."

"Forget this," Jake said sadly. " C'mon on Helen, let's go. Mom, there's a Holiday Inn a mile or so from here. We'll be there. Come by and we'll catch up over dinner or something."

"Jake, please stay," Ruth pleaded as Helen turned briskly to leave the room.

"Mom, I'm sorry," he replied. "There's just no point in trying."

"So you're slinking away again?" Mad Dog asked.

Jake stopped in the doorway allowing Helen to pass. "To tell the truth, Dad, you were right. I really wanted reconciliation. I wanted to somehow make things right between us before you die but you just won't let that happen."

"So what are you going to do?" Mad Dog shrilly demanded. "Write _Daddy Dearest_? Go on _Phil Donahue _and whine about what a rotten father I was?"

"No, Dad," he began but his father interrupted him.

"I spent fourteen months in a hellhole of a Red Chinese prison camp and what was my reward?" Mad Dog savagely asked. "I come home to a pansy of a kid who cried the first time he saw me! And the worst of it was I was stuck with you. Thanks to some shrapnel, I couldn't have any more kids! I couldn't make me a boy a man could be proud of!"

Jake, stunned by the revelation, involuntarily looked toward his father's groin. Mad Dog caught the glance.

"Yeah, that's right," Mad Dog barked. "I got my balls shot off! Go on, laugh about it. Damn Reds did when they found me!"

Jake frowned as he ruminated trying understand his father's treatment of him in light of his father's bombshell. Helen crystallized his half formed thoughts.

"I always thought that Jake was exaggerating the abuse he suffered at your hands but I can see that I was wrong," she said stepping back into the room. "You do have severe if understandable psychological problems. Why didn't you seek any help. I'm sure the VA has programs to help Vets with mental problems stemming from war."

"I'm not crazy," Mad Dog roared as loudly as his weaken condition would allow.

"He's not," Ruth said rising to her husband's defence. "He's perfectly fine."

"No, hardly insane," Helen agreed. "But far from perfectly fine. He's obviously a textbook case of transference."

"Who the hell are you?" Mad Dog snapped. "Joyce Brothers?"

"I graduated _summa cum laude _with dual degrees in psychology and sociology," Helen replied. "But you hardly need to be Freud to analyse your case. The loss of your testicles left you feeling unmanly. Clearly, in the light of your treatment of Jake, you projected those feelings on Jake seeing him as being less than the masculine ideal. Further, you redirected your anger at the Chinese who maimed you on you son. Jake became your scapegoat, the vessel into which you poured every negative feeling you had."

"That a load of bull," Mad Dog retorted. "Get the hell out of here."

Without a another word, Helen spun on her heel and left the room again.

"I'm sorry," Jake said quietly.

"You should be sorry," his father said angrily. "Trust you to marry a mouthy bitch who thinks she knows everything 'cause she read a book or two."

"No, Dad, I meant that I was sorry for you," Jake clarified.

"I don't want your pity," Mad Dog snarled.

Jake nodded sorrow etching canyons in his face. "That's too bad because that's all I have for you," Jake evenly said before following his wife out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.

Chapter 4

_Pearsborough, Virginia_

_Late Winter, 1980_

"It was a dark and stormy night," Rita Chambers said as the heavy rain that fell from the evening sky beat against the windscreen of her Lincoln Continental.

"What, Mommy?" her daughter asked sleepily from the seat.

"Nothing, Erin," she replied without taking her eyes from the road. "Mommy was just talking to herself."

"Oh," Erin said uncertainly. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost, sweetie," her mother answered with artificial brightness. "Aunt Helen said that she lived-ah, there's her apartment complex over there. She said that her's was number four. Can you point to number four?"

Erin sat up straighter in her seat peering through the window trying to remember what the number four looked like by conjuring the correct page from her favourite _Little Golden Book._ Most of the doors were in shadows but an outside light bathed one in its warm glow.

"Over there, Mommy," Erin exclaimed, pointing with a chubby finger. "By the blue car."

"Very good, Sweetie," Rita said, pulling in beside the seven-year old Chevy Vega that their father bought Helen. Ambrose wanted to buy Helen a new car but she stubbornly refused to allow him to do that. It was only the fact that she and Jake needed a second vehicle that Helen grudgingly but gratefully accepted the Vega.

"I'm four, too," Erin said waving four fingers.

"That's right," Rita replied. "You're mommy's big girl, now."

Creaking her door, Rita popped open a large yellow umbrella. Quickly, she scampered to the passenger side. She muttered an inaudible curse as cold water splashed on her bare ankles. The black kitten heels were comfortable but hardly suitable for keeping winter weather at bay. She saw Helen appear in her entryway while she was reaching for the handle.

"Do you need any help?" Helen called as she opened her door.

"Just keep the door open," she replied as she extracted her daughter from the car. "We'll make a run for it. We'll grab the luggage after while."

Moments later, mother and child were safely inside. In short order, both quickly hugged Helen before shucking wet shoes and finding a resting place on the bathroom's tiled floor for the umbrella.

"Is Jake home?" Rita asked.

"No," Helen replied with a small shake of her head. "He's working late but he knows that you'll be sleeping on the sofa bed so said that he'll be as quiet as possible when he comes in."

"You tell him not to worry about that," Rita said waving a hand in dismissal.

"Coffee?" Helen asked. "Something to eat?"

"We stopped at a burger joint not too long ago but I'd kill for a cup of coffee right now," Rita said. "It's freezing outside. I don't think spring's ever going to get here."

"At least it's not snowing," Helen replied.

"I'm surprised it isn't," answered Rita. "It's cold enough. I left New Rochelle in the rain and it stayed with us all the way down here."

Helen chuckled. "Pitiful you. Please sit down. I'll be right back."

Rita sat on the sofa. Erin climbed beside her. Slowly, Rita took in her sister's apartment. It was small but painfully neat. There was little in the way of decoration. No paintings adorned the walls. No figurines or vases cluttered the coffee table. No rugs camped on the laminate floor. The only concession to style was that the deep blue drapes that covered the front picture window matched the sofa and recliner perfectly. The lone personal touch were the several family photographs that rested on a low table on either side of a small television set. Rita smiled. All and all it reflected her sister perfectly, Spartan yet somehow homey none-the-less much like her room as a teen-ager.

"Here we are," Helen said setting a silver plated tea service on the coffee table before Rita. "Some hot chocolate for you, Erin."

"Thank you, Aunt Helen," the little girl replied carefully taking the cup and saucer into her small hands.

Helen watched her niece for a moment. Satisfied that Erin could handle the mug, she turned her attention to pouring her sister a cup. As she did, she caught Rita broadly smiling.

"What's so funny?" Helen asked.

Rita shook her head. "I was just thinking how we really don't get away from our raising."

"What do you mean?"

"Look at you. All those years of protests, funny cigarettes and getting up to Lord knows what in that commune of yours," Rita answered. "Yet here you are serving coffee in a manner that would make our grandmothers proud. "

"Mom would find some fault with it," Helen said grumpily.

"It makes me wonder why you ran away in the first place," Rita said ignoring her sister's comment.

"I didn't run away, "Helen said as she sat back onto a recliner a cup of her own in her hand.

Her sister chuckled. "What would you call it? Middleton was the closest college to home you applied to and that's all the way up in Pennsylvania."

"Which is hardly the dark side of the moon," Helen pointed out. "And actually closer to Mossy Creek than Cape Henry." she added mentioning her sister's alma mater.

"Yes but Colorado. California," replied Rita. "I'm surprised you didn't move to Canada or Kalamazoo."

Helen looked puzzled. "Kalamazoo?"

"Oh, not Kalamazoo," Rita said. "I mean that place in India where all the hippies go."

"You mean Kathmandu," Helen said laughing. "In Nepal."

"Nepal?" asked a frowning Rita. "Well, close enough. Anyhoo, you see my point, don't you?"

Helen nodded. "Yes, I do," she agreed.

Rita looked at her sister closely as they made small talk for several more minutes. Helen looked tired. No surprise there. She knew Helen was knocking herself out trying to be the valedictorian of her class. Her competitive nature would not allow her to try for anything less and she was working part time to boot. Yet there was an odd tightness around Helen's eyes that Rita noticed but could not put a name to.

"Are you okay, honey?" she finally asked.

"I'm fine," Helen replied quickly.

Too quickly for her sister. Rita glanced at a drowsy Erin. She gently took the emptied mug from her hands before catching Helen off guard by switching to French. "What's wrong, Helen?" she asked. "School? Jake?"

Helen set her own mug down on the coffee table. She visibly wrestled with her reply for several seconds. "I'm pregnant, " she replied quietly in the same language. "Just a few weeks."

Rita automatically started to say congratulations but the tears in Helen's eyes stopped her. She clasped Helen's hands. "What are you going to do?" she asked almost fearfully.

"I'm having the child," Helen answered. "I can't…I just can't but…God, it couldn't have come at a worst time. I don't know how we're going to manage."

"Well, Daddy," Rita started.

""I know," Helen interrupted her voice creaking. "But Daddy can't make more time. How am I going to take care of a baby and go to school? Jake's already pushed to the limit working a full time job as he is and trying to keep up in class. I mean diapers, two o'clock feedings, and God knows what else. I just don't know what I'm going to do."

Rita took her sister's hand in hers. "It'll be all right, honey," she said. "I promise."

Helen smiled wanly while swiping at the tears with her free hand. "Thanks," she replied.

"We'll figure something out," Rita said encouraging.

The weak smile stayed on Helen's lips. "I dread telling Jake. I don't want him to quit school but I know that's what he'll do. I don't want to quit either."

Both women went silent for several moments. Rita started to speak but with a shake of her head, she remained quiet. She finally spoke when she noticed that Erin had fallen asleep. "I think we need that bed now," she said. "I'll run out and get our bags.

Minutes later, a pyjama-clad Erin was snuggling next to her teddy bear. Her mother and Aunt retired to the dinette set in the kitchen.

"Sweetie, do you rent this place," Rita asked. "Or do you lease?"

"What?" she asked taken off-guard again by her sister. "We have a lease that runs through June. We'll probably renew. This place is almost exactly halfway between Washington & Lafayette when I go and Virginia Northern where Jake's enrolled."

"I know where you two go to school, Helen," Rita said. "Dad's tickled pink that you're attending Washington and Lafayette. He really wanted Amy to go there when it finally went co-ed but she wouldn't hear of it."

Helen shrugged as she sipped her coffee service "He's paying for it but it's a very good law school, one of the best in the country," she said almost plaintively. "That's one of the reasons that I don't want to quit. If I do, I may never start up again or if I do it won't be at a university anywhere near as good as Washington & Lafayette."

Rita nodded in understanding, her own face showing some anxiety. "Law School's three years long, right?" she asked. "You'll have two more years after this one."

"That's right," Helen agreed.

Rita took a deep breath then slowly exhaled. "In June, when your lease is up," she began. "Find a place with another bedroom and I'll move down here and help you with the baby."

Helen blinked in surprise. "Sweetie, I can't let you do that," she said after a moment. "I mean thank you but no. I don't think Jim would appreciate his wife moving two hundred plus miles away for two years."

Helen caught the several emotions that rapidly raced across Rita face. It was not hard to draw the right conclusion. "Oh, Rita, no," she said reaching over clasping her sister's hand. "Another woman?"

Rita shook her head. "No," she said as tears welled up. "In a way, that would have been easier."

"He's not hitting you, is he?" Helen asked in sudden anger. "Or is it Erin?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Rita replied forcefully. "It's cocaine."

"Cocaine?" Helen repeated. "Jim?"

"Yes, Jim." she replied. "I know you have a different view on drugs but I won't put up with it. I don't know if you can become addicted to cocaine or not but Jim's gone way overboard. It's costing a fortune and changing Jim's personality. Even Erin, at her age, has noticed the difference n him. She's been asking what's wrong with Daddy."

"Cocaine is not physically but psychologically addictive,' Helen answered. "And for the record, I was never a major drug user and haven't touched anything in over three years."

Rita nodded. "Good for you, " she said. "If only Jim had that attitude. I told him this morning it was either his family or coke. He packed a bag."

"Oh, Rita," Helen moaned. "I am so sorry."

Rita grabbed a napkin and dabbed at her eyes. "Thanks but honestly if it wasn't cocaine, the marriage would have probably failed anyway. What Jim said he wanted out of life while we were dating isn't what he wants now. He's enamoured with the lifestyle of a Wall Street broker."

"Brokers have a lifestyle?" Helen asked with a tinge of humour.

Rita chuckled ruefully. "It's highly completive, cut-throat even and all of them are into status symbols; the right clothes, the right address, the right car, the right wife."

"You should fit right in," Helen said without thinking.

"I'm not as superficial as you seem to think, Helen," Rita replied. "Or as stupid. I might not have _cum laude _on my sheepskin but no one takes me for a dim witted piece of blonde arm candy in even in the city."

"Of course not," Helen replied. "That's what Mom trained you for, to be the perfect hostess and the perfect guest, a sparkling addition to any social gathering. "

Rita sighed deeply. "Helen, we're in our thirties, now. Do you think you can drop some of the childhood grudges, please? Maybe Mom favoured me for whatever reason but let it go. I am sick and tired of having to defend myself every time we see each other and it will get old real quick if I am living with you."

Helen's sigh matched her sister's then she lightly laughed. "Pot calling the kettle black. I've been on Jake's case for years trying to get him to get over his past."

"Has he?" Rita asked.

Helen shrugged. "I'm not sure. Since his father's passing his outbursts have stopped but- I just don't know. We stay so busy we make a conscious effort to keep any flies out of the ointment when we are together."

"And look where that got you," Rita quipped.

"Yeah," Helen replied glancing down at her belly. She shook her head before looking back up. "But you got to admit that you getting a British sports car for graduation was a bit more then what I got."

"I got a twelve year-old car while you got a brand new one," Rita pointed out. "Although I confess it was the car I wanted."

Helen frowned. "It was twelve years-old?"

"A '55 MGA roadster," Rita answered. "It was owned by someone he served with in the House of Delegates whereas Daddy got you the brand new '68 convertible that you wanted."

"Why in the world did Daddy think that I wanted a Dodge Dart?" Helen asked.

Rita looked perplexed. "You didn't?"

"No," Helen answered. "If anything, I wanted a Karmann Ghia."

"But Daddy told me that every time you were in town, he saw you staring at a Dodge Dart," Rita said. "He thought you loved that car."

Helen thought for a moment then started chuckling. "Daddy can be so clueless sometimes," she said. "It wasn't the car but the fact that Travis Crane was driving it."

"Travis Crane," Rita repeated joining her sister in laughter. "Woof."

"Woof was right," Helen replied. "Oh, mercy, what would Daddy had bought me if that boy drove a Mercedes?"

"Just be glad it wasn't a pick-up truck," Rita giggled.

Helen laughed lightly for a moment before she abruptly sobered. "A live-in nanny would solve a lot of problems," she said quietly. "But are you certain that you want to do this?"

"Helen, I need to do something," her sister mournfully answered. "I don't want to go back to Mossy Creek yet but I don't want to stay in New York."

She glanced down the hall at her sleeping daughter. "The divorce will be quick if not painless," Rita continued in a low voice. "I don't want any alimony and Jim has no interest in Erin so I don't think there will be a custody battle of any sort."

"What do you mean he has no interest in Erin?" a shocked Helen asked. "She's his daughter."

"I guess we just don't fit into his plans anymore," Rita replied sadly. "Helen, if you let me stay with you, you would be helping me as much as I would be you. Please say yes."

Helen stepped to her sister's side and hugged her fiercely. "Yes," she said. "And thank you from the bottom of my heart. You're a lifesaver."

Both sisters turned to the sound of a key being placed in the front door.

"Better pour Jake a cup of coffee," Rita said. "You have a lot to tell him."


	5. Chapter 5

Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.

Chapter Five

_Mossy Creek Farm, Virginia's Blue Ridge Mountains_

_Thanksgiving Day, 1982_

Porky Barksdale cradled his sleeping nine-month-old granddaughter Quinn in his arms as he gently stroked her fine red hair. Curled in a ball on one side of him, Daria, Quinn's two year-old sister slept also, tuckered by the early start to her day. His eldest grandchild, Erin, sat mutely on his other side.

Porky looked curiously at her. While Erin was not an overly exuberant child, neither was she normally subdued. "Is something wrong, sweetie?" he asked with concern.

Erin fidgeted a bit before finally looking up. "You know Colonel Bonnejean, right?"

"Bonnejean, Bonnejean," her grandfather repeated absently as he rubbed his chin. "Hmmm, let me see. Oh, you mean the man that came down here with you, the one that your Uncle Jake introduced to your mother, the one that asked her to marry him."

"Yes," Erin answered exasperatedly.

"What about him?" asked Porky.

"Do you like him?" she asked.

"Yes, I do but do you?" he asked in return.

Erin's brow puckered in thought. "Sorta," she said. "Mom is happy when he's around which makes me happy but he doesn't like me."

Porky patted Erin's hand. "You're wrong about that, child. I happen to know that he likes you very, very much." he told her.

"Really?" Erin exclaimed. "But he doesn't say so."

Porky thought back on his first meeting with Lieutenant Colonel Rafe Bonnejean, Jr. (US Army, Ret.) in August after he proposed to his daughter. "Getting married for the first time when you're forty-five is one thing but how the hell do I become a father at this age?" he asked Porky almost plaintively when they had a moment alone. "Erin's a doll. I don't want to mess up the kid's life."

Porky smiled at her. "The thing is, sweetie, Colonel Bonnejean has never had any children in his life. He likes you but he doesn't know how to talk to young girls. Give him time."

"He really likes me?" Erin again asked peering intently into his face.

"Yes, he does," Porky repeated. "He told me so. You have my word on that."

Grinning broadly, Erin slipped her arms around as much of her grandfather as she could, and hugged him tightly. "I think I'll go help cook now," she announced hopping from the couch. In a flash, she was gone.

Daria rolled over. Her eyes fluttered open. Briefly, she smiled at her grandfather before sitting up. Porky wrapped an arm around her as she leaned against him

"Welcome back to the world, sleepyhead," he said to her in a jovial manner.

"Hello, Ambrose," Rafe Bonnejean said quickly moderating his tone when he saw the sleeping Quinn.

"Hi, Dad," Jake said, fast on his heels. "How are they doing?"

"Little angels," Porky replied.

Daria scampered from the couch and trotted awkwardly to her father who lifted her into his arms. "Hey, Kiddo," he said planting a kiss on her forehead. She giggled.

"Would one of you pour some brandy?" Porky asked. "I've been wanting a drink but didn't want to disturb the baby."

"A brandy would be good," Rafe said opening the sidebar. "Drive the chill from the bones. Jake?"

"Sure."

"So, how did it go?" Porky asked as Rafe poured a drinks.

"I'm more then half embarrassed, to tell the truth," the retired soldier said jokingly from across the room. "I got four squirrels but this civilian bagged the limit and added a couple of rabbits to boot. They're skinned and cleaned and sitting in your freezer as we speak."

"Good, good, good, " Porky said with a gleam in his eye. "We'll fix some squirrel and dumplings before you leave, a delicacy that I doubt Jake has ever had the supreme fortune of tasting. Moreover, on the subject of Jake, you have been holding out on me. I didn't know you could shoot. I was actually a little shy about loaning you a shotgun."

Jake shrugged as he eased down onto a chair parking Daria on his lap. "My marksmanship was about the only thing that didn't get me yelled at in Buxton Ridge. I guess I haven't lost much of it. Anyway, you ought to have come with us. Get away from the pandemonium."

Porky patted his ample belly. "My doctor would probably approve of me getting some exercise. He seems to think that I don't realise that I'm fat."

"It was a good morning to be out," Rafe said. "Crisp but no wind blowing to make the temperature uncomfortable or to drive the game into hiding."

"No doubt," Porky replied. "But I was needed here. I'm the official taster and settler of culinary disputes. Me playing Solomon in the kitchen keeps the arguments to a minimum and trust me on this one, the Barksdale women like to argue."

"Ain't that the truth," Jake muttered as he sniffed his drink, took a sip, frowned, and then sniffed again. "This is brandy?"

"Calvados," Porky replied. "Apple brandy from Normandy. I acquired a taste for it during the war. Do you like it?"

Jake took another sip. "Yes, I do," he said. He took still another sip before setting the glass down. "I got something to run by you, Dad," he continued. "Rafe had an interesting suggestion and I'd like to know what you think about it."

"Oh," Porky said glancing over at Rafe. "What is it?"

"Just a notion I had to help Jake and Helen out," Rafe replied.

"Help us out how?" Helen asked entering the den.

"Another dispute in the kitchen?" Porky asked

"No, Daddy, I'm just checking on the girls," she replied. "So, help us out how?"

"Rafe thought that we might want to give the Army JAG corps a look," Jake said.

"JAG," Helen disdainfully exclaimed. "Are you kidding me?"

"Interesting idea," Porky quickly said noting Rafe's suddenly tight jaw.

"Interesting idea, my ass," Helen snapped. "I was the salutatorian of my class. I didn't bust my hump to get that just to play soldier."

"JAG officers don't play soldier," LTC Bonnejean said evenly. "They are soldiers."

"What do you think, Jake," Porky asked trying to avert an argument.

Jake looked at Helen as he answered. "Actually, the idea has a lot of merit, Dad."

Helen narrowed he eyes dangerously. "Are you trying to get rid of some latent guilt being the only man here that didn't join the military?" she asked spitefully.

"No, Helen," he replied calmly. "I'm trying to get a job as a lawyer. You know, that occupation we just spent three hard, exhausting years training for, the one for which neither of us has gotten so much as a nibble."

"It takes time, Jake," Helen replied.

"Helen, we have to face the facts," Jake returned. "At the moment we're poison. No firm is going to hire us. Even four dozen different government agencies haven't given us so much as a second interview."

"We're in a recession, Jake," she answered. "A lot of people are looking for work."

"Why dance around the obvious," Jake said forcefully. "Despite the fact we can both now point to some very high bar exam scores, all firms see when they look at us is a man who graduated from a fourth tier law school in the bottom third of his class."

"While working full time," Helen interrupted.

"They don't care about the surrounding circumstances," Jake continued. "And in you all they see is a woman with a toddler and an infant who won't be able to give them the sixteen hour days a lot of them expect from their new associates."

Helen started to speak but her father interrupted her. "Sit down beside me, daughter," he kindly said patting the spot Erin so recently vacated. "Give the idea some thought before reflexively rejecting it ."

She obediently sat but not before she gave him a flinty look that amused him. Porky tenderly extended Quinn to her. She sighed as she cradled her daughter. She could not deny the truth of Jake's words. While no interviewer came out and said so (thereby inviting a lawsuit) the way several of them lingered on the subject of her young children left no doubt in Helen that it was a red flag in their minds; still, the army of all things.

"JAG will give us time for the girls to reach school age," Jake said. "And give us experience. Four or five years down the line, we can have something more to offer than just class rankings and test scores."

"I don't think the army would be thrilled to have us if they took a look at our past," Helen replied.

Porky arched an eyebrow. "Just how…colourful are we talking about here?" he asked.

Helen shrugged. "Some drug use, anti-war protests," she said. "Member of Students for a Democratic Society and the Worker Student Alliance. One arrest."

"We were arrested but in the end never charged," Jake pointed out.

"You were arrested?" Porky asked his daughter. "When? For what?"

Helen laughed lightly. "Ironically enough, for getting into a brawl with some National Guardsmen."

"I don't recall the Guard being called out to Middleton," Porky said.

"It wasn't Middleton," Jake began. "Helen and me and a couple of friends of ours were in Boulder Colorado back in the summer of 1970. The Guardsmen were doing their weekend warrior bit and feeling like John Wayne, I guess. All they saw was long hair so they yelled a couple of insults at us. We responded. It escalated. Long story short, we got our butts kicked and tossed into jail for our trouble while the cops let the other guys walk."

"The D.A. had us released the next morning. As I said, no charges were ever filed so I don't think that it'll be an issue at all."

Porky chuckled. "Let me guess," he said. "My spitfire daughter here was the one that first yelled back at the troops."

"They were idiots," Helen snorted. "And I wasn't going to take crap from morons pretending they were heroic figures defending the ski slopes of Colorado from the Viet Cong."

"What do you think, Rafe," Porky asked.

"As Jake said,," Rafe replied. "I don't think that'll be an issue. As for the rest of it, I think it'll pale beside their high bar exam scores. After all, it's not like they were bombing recruiting stations and the service isn't naïve enough to think that no one but a few reprobates have every tried dope. As long as they're clean now and will stay that way, I think that the army would be more then glad to have them."

"Well, Helen?" asked Jake. "Do we give it a shot? "

Helen ruminated for a moment. "Maybe," she said. "I'll need more information first."

"Dinner's ready," Amy said appearing at the doorway.

"Let's eat," Porky said as he and everyone but Helen rose.

Helen waited until the others had filed from the room before sighing. "Geez, she said. "The army. Has it actually come to that?"

Quinn only gurgled in reply.


	6. Chapter 6

Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.

Chapter Six

_Lawndale, Maryland_

_Early summer, 1987_

Vivian Taylor eased her car into the driveway of 109 Howard Drive but her eyes were riveted on the large ramshackle house next door. No cars were present and no one on the lawn.

"Good," she thought. "Doesn't look like anyone's home. Although with that bunch..."

Three times in the past year, Vivian had been on the verge of closing a sale on the house. Three times just before signatures found their way onto paperwork, the woman next door drifted over to introduce herself to her new neighbours, usually with several of her children in tow and once her husband. Three times, buyers backed out despite the eight-foot tall privacy fence that encompassed the backyard and the row of cypress trees that ran from the fence to the sidewalk separating the two properties completely.

"Damn," she thought. "I'd have had less trouble unloading this place if a tribe of howler monkeys lived there."

Vivian plastered her best smile on her face as she waited for the minivan to pull in beside her. She knew that Mrs Morgendorffer was in the market because the Davis-Miller law group recently hired her, a firm whose offices were practically a right turn and a straight shot from Howard Drive. A point Vivian intended to drive home aggressively because she was one more commission check from saying 'Good bye, Lawndale Community Theatre, Hello, L.A.'

"I have to warn you," she said brightly as popped from her car. "Once you're inside, you'll probably won't want to leave."

Helen corralled her two daughters but that did not prevent her from seeing the _REDUCED _placard diagonally draped across a corner of the _FOR SALE _sign that stood forlornly amidst grass that was at least a week past its need for a mowing.

"Asking prices are not lowered for houses that people are fighting to get into," she thought. "And any agent worth her salt would have had the place squared away before she brought over a potential buyer. Missy, I'm gonna skin you alive on the final price if the house is anywhere near in decent condition."

Helen blinked in surprise at her savage thought but quickly shoved it aside. "We'll see," she aloofly said as she continued her perusal of the immediate neighbourhood. The houses were older, she guessed around forty years old.

"Probably built during the post-war housing boom," Helen thought.

She knew that the workmanship of new subdivisions varied greatly during those years. Quantity, not quality, was the order of the day for some while others weathered the years well due to superior craftsmanship. It did not matter because Jake stressed to her to have any house she thought of purchasing inspected independently before she signed any papers.

As for the area itself, quiet was the word that came immediately into Helen's mind. They were at the edge of town. Howard Drive itself ended in an intersection just four houses down the street. A small strip mall sat beyond there nestled between the road and a set of railroad tracks. A huge pasture dotted with a few dozen cattle stretched several hundred yards from a fence bordering the tracks to a large grove of hardwood trees.

The tracks were perhaps a bit close but Helen enjoyed the cadence of a passing train. It conjured the romance of travel especially when its seductive rhythm teased her in the deep dark of night. It was an aural aphrodisiac. Jake felt the same way. Quinn likely owned her existence to a passing Norfolk Southern zipping past their home one warm late spring night.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Morgendorffer?" Vivian asked intruding on Helen's reverie.

"What?"

"I asked if you were okay," Vivian repeated. "You looked funny for a moment, sad, sick or something."

Helen gave her a weak smile. "I was just thinking of my husband," she replied. "I miss him."

A stricken look slid onto Vivian's face. "I'm very sorry," she said looking at the two young girls with pity.

"Oh, no, no, no," Helen chuckled. "It's not like that. My husband's in the army and at the moment in the middle of a yearlong tour in Korea. Unfortunately, it's a hardship tour, no dependants allowed but he'll be home by Christmas."

"Mommy was a soldier," the little red haired girl piped up.

"Really now," Vivian said brightly while she struggled to remember the girl's name.

"Emphasis on was," Helen said. "Let's go inside, shall we?"

"Right this way," Vivian said.

With her back to the Morgendorffers, Vivian failed to see Daria look up at the second level next door. A little dark haired girl was standing by a window staring at them. Tentatively, Daria nodded a small greeting to her. After a moment, the girl waved back, a tiny, crooked grin on her lips.

As they toured the house, Helen's struggle to keep her poker face in place intensified. A five bedroom, two and a half bathroom house was larger than they needed especially since she and Jake agreed that two children were enough but it was a steal at the asking price. Hardwood floors on every level including the full basement, an actual staircase to the attic, a covered porch on the rear of the house and a massive enclosed backyard that absolutely begged for a garden. Helen missed her old garden dreadfully.

"There's no way this house could have been on the market for over a year," she thought to herself. "What's the catch? Poltergeists?"

"Helloooo," someone crooned from downstairs.

"Eff me," Vivian snarled in the corners of her mind. "If I lose this sell, I'll strangle that bitch!"

From the top of the staircase, Helen spied a woman about her own age wearing a highly embroidered umber-coloured peasant dress standing in the foray with a lanky little girl. The woman wore her light brown hair well past her shoulders. Large silver earrings dangled from her ears.

"Hello," she repeated when she caught sight of Helen. "I'm Amanda. I live next door."

"Hello," Helen politely responded as she descended the stairs. ""I'm Helen Morgendorffer and who's that hiding behind you?"

"My youngest daughter Jane," Amanda replied gently pulling her forward. "She's five."

"Mom, I'm six," Jane said. "I'm gonna be in the first grade, remember?"

Amanda frowned then shrugged.

"This is my eldest, Daria, and my youngest, Quinn," Helen said more to Jane than Amanda. "Daria starts the first grade this year also. Is the school far from here?"

"Tydings Elementary is right around the corner on Fine Street," Vivian quickly injected. "Just two blocks away. Not even a five minute walk from here."

"That's true," Amanda agreed. "Oh the reason I'm here. I came over to invite you to lunch."

"Thank you," Helen said. "But I don't want to put you through any trouble."

Amanda smiled. "It's no trouble. Penny made a large pot of soup, enough to feed twenty people, at least. And the kettle's on so we can have hot tea."

"Thank you," Helen accepted.

"You're welcome too," Amanda said to Vivian.

"No thank you," Vivian tightly replied. "I have to get back to the office. I have another appointment."

"I'll be in touch soon, Mrs. Taylor," Helen said.

"It's a wonderful house," Vivian said as she slid by.

The others followed her outside. Amanda looked on curiously as Vivian carefully turned the deadbolt and the lock.

"Locks don't keep anyone but friends from a house," Amanda intoned.

"It's a safe neighbourhood," Vivian replied rigidly. "But you cannot be too cautious."

Without a backward glance, Vivian hopped into her car and roared away. Amanda watched her for a moment but turned to Helen as soon as the real estate agent sped down the street.

"I hope you move in," she said turning toward her home. "The house is lonely. It has had no one to shelter and protect for nearly two years now. It's starting to lose hope."

"I'll need to get it inspected first," Helen replied falling into step with Amanda. "But it's a bargain. I can't believe that no one has snatched it up before now."

"I know," Amanda agreed. "It's strange. Several have looked at it. Some even seemed enthusiastic about it when I talked to them but in the end no one bought it."

A loud crash greeted them as they rounded the last of the bushes. It startled Helen but it did not perturb Amanda. "The cypresses Mister Brown planted are lovely," she said serenely. "But they're almost a wall now. It does make it difficult to go from yard to yard. "

Two blurs that faintly resembled male toddlers scurried past them as soon as Amanda opened the front door. Inside, a young woman with long blonde hair was on her hands and knees picking up the pieces of a broken lamp.

"Grab 'em, Mom," she yelled trying to get to her feet.

Helen was quicker. Like lariats, her hands leaped out and snared both by the collars of their tee shirts. The boys squirmed and danced but her grip held them firmly.

"Thanks," the young woman said taking the two boys from Helen. "I'm sorry; Mom, but they broke your brown lamp."

Amanda chuckled. "It doesn't matter, dear. I'll just make another body for it," she said before quickly introducing everyone.

Helen covertly took in the house. The first thought that popped to mind was shamble but she quickly amended it to jumble. Pottery was everywhere. Mismatched furniture with no sense of arraignment lay about as if indifferently dropped by a giant child playing with a dollhouse.

"Who's this?" a teen-aged girl descending the staircase demanded.

"This is Helen," Amanda said. "She's looking Mr. Brown's house. My middle daughter, Penny."

Penny stared at Helen as if expecting a reaction. When none came, she snorted again.

"I suppose Mom invited you to lunch," she said.

"Yes, she did," Helen replied. "She said that you made a large pot of soup."

Penny grinned evilly. "I did," she said. "Menudo, a traditional Mexican soup. Do you know what's in it?"

"If it's what I'm thinking of it is based on tripe and beef feet," Helen answered smoothly.

Penny's grin fell from her face. "So are you another yuppie bent on turning Lawndale into another milk white suburb?"

"I'm an attorney," Helen replied trying to keep her amusement at the girl's belligerence from showing. "Just out of the army in fact."

"A real jackbooted lackey of the military-industrial plutocracy," Penny snapped sensing that Helen was not taking her seriously.

"Don't forget to add running dog," Helen advised. "No pseudo-Marist rant is complete without that phrase."

Penny suggested the act of self-copulation to Helen before storming back up the stairs. "I hope you get heartburn," she yelled before slamming her bedroom door.

"Lively girl," Helen laughed.

"Yes," Amanda replied. "Come this way to the kitchen."

"You mentioned that you were going to make a new body for the lamp," Helen said. "Are you a potter?"

"Oh, yes," Amanda replied. I have three wheels and four kilns in the old bomb shelter.

"I haven't slung clay in years," Helen said.

Amanda smiled broadly. "After lunch, we have to get you back into it then. I have several smocks and plenty of clay."

*****

At five o'clock, Vivian was locking her desk when her telephone rang. At five oh five, confident that the Brown property would pass any inspection, she danced a jig in the middle of the room calculating how soon she would be in Los Angeles.


	7. Chapter 7

**Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.**

Chapter Seven

_Lawndale, Maryland, USA_

_Mid January, 1988_

If _Millie's Diner _were any more crowded, feet would have been sticking out of the windows but Jake, an overcoat draped over his green U. S. Army service uniform, entered anyway. Nerves prevented him from eating anything other than a dry piece of toast that morning so he was hungry but did not feel like driving back to the house nor did any one of the several fast food places in the neighbourhood tempt him. What did were the alluring odours waffling from the grill of _Millie's _that teased his nose all the way across the street.

A few patrons looked at him curiously. Despite the town's proximity to Washington, D.C. and the military bases that surrounded it, soldiers were not that common in Lawndale let alone one in full uniform in the middle of a weekday but, other than one police officer that nodded a friendly greeting at Jake, none paid him any mind.

"Aw, hell," a voice behind Jake muttered.

"Excuse me," Jake said.

A tall lean man with greying hair dressed in a sharp, dark blue suit that even Jake's unpractised eye could tell was very expensive waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing," he said. "I was just forlornly hoping to get and out in a hurry. I knew that it would be packed as always but I have a craving for their country fried steak."

"Good?" Jake asked shedding his overcoat.

"Best in Maryland," the man replied.

'I'll have to try it than," Jake said. "You know, it's just me. I'm willing to share a table if you don't mind eating with a stranger."

The man smiled broadly. "Thanks, Captain," he said extending his hand. "Charles Ruttheimer."

"Jacob Morgendorffer," Jake answered as he shook hands.

A hostess in an outlandish pink uniform bustled up to them. "Table for two?" she asked.

"Yes, please," Charles responded.

"So what brings a JAG officer to Lawndale," Charles asked after they sat down at a booth.

"You recognise the insignia," Jake said somewhat surprised.

Charles shrugged slightly. "I did my two years right after college. Managed to achieve the exalted rank of Lance Corporal."

"Marine Corps, than."

"Yeah."

"Viet Nam?"

Charles shook his head. "No," he replied. "Viet Nam hadn't heated up quite yet while I was in. Spent a year in Korea, though."

"I just got back from there," Jake said.

Charles whistled lightly. "I wasn't getting shot at there but the winters are something else, colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra."

"Oh, yeah," agreed Jake wholeheartedly.

Charles noticed the waitress walking up to them. "I don't need a menu, miss," he said politely. "I'll have the country fried steak, home-style potatoes, green beans, and black coffee."

"Make that two, please," Jake added. "Except I'll have baked instead of green beans."

"I like men who know what they want," the waitress said as she placed cutlery rolled in napkins and glasses of water on the table. "Any dessert?'

Both men shook their heads.

"All righty," the waitress said. "Be out in a jff."

"What brings a JAG officer to Lawndale?" Charles asked again.

Jake sighed. "I had a job interview across the street," he replied. "At Vitale, Horowitz, Riordan, Schrecter, Schrecter, and Schrecter."

"Vitale's a grade 'A' horse's ass," Charles said. "Riordan's about as bad. The rest I don't know although I'll go with guilt by association."

"I need a job," Jake countered. "I'm officially off active duty next week."

Charles grinned. "Do you always go to job interviews in uniform?"

Jake formed a rueful smile. "No but five minutes before I was going to leave the house my one good suit collided with a bowl of oatmeal."

Charles laughed heartily. "Been there. When my son was about a year old he threw up into my brief case," he said. "Regurgitated pears all over a several hundred thousand dollar contract. Fortunately, the client was a father and a grandfather so we just shared a good laugh and drew up another one. Still use that same briefcase. Been rather lucky for me over the last few years."

Jake nodded. "Maybe the accident will bring me the same kind of luck," he said apathetically.

Charles frowned. "I get the feeling that you really don't want the job with Vitale, Captain."

Jake leaned back. "If I had my druthers, I'd stay in the army," he said after a moment. "It's funny. I spent years avoiding the service because of some bad blood between me and my father but once I got in, I loved it."

"I knew several draftees who felt the same way," Charles replied. "So why not stay in?"

"My wife," Jake answered simply.

"Ah," Charles said in understanding.

"She wants me out so there it is," Jake replied. "But I am transferring to the active reserves. Keep a toe in the water, anyway"

"Good," Charles laughed. "We can't let the wives have their way totally."

"Just ninety-nine percent," Jake returned.

"Oh, yeah, you've been married a while, too," said Charles. "Well, I know that being a service wife can be difficult."

"Actually, she joined JAG when I did but got out as soon as her obligation was up," Jake said. "She was hired by Davis-Miller here in Lawndale."

"I know them, "Charles said. "Miller's a feminist firebrand who sees sexual harassment in every innocuous comment but Davis has her head screwed on mostly straight. So your family is already here?"

"Yeah," Jake answered. "Since last summer. Helen, my wife, bought a house and moved her and our two girls here while I was still in Korea."

The waitress scooted to a halt by their table, a laden tray in her hands. "Here you are, gentlemen," she said. "Enjoy."

Both had several mouthfuls before Jake broke the silence. "You were right," he said. "This is very good."

"Won't steer a soldier wrong," Charles said. "If corporate law doesn't float your boat, what kind of law do you want to practice, Captain?"

Jake took a long sip of coffee as he gathered his thoughts. "What I enjoy most is helping with wills, setting up trust funds, that sort of thing," he answered.

"Estate Law," Charles said.

"Yeah," Jake replied lazily as he attacked the rest of his food.

The rest of the meal passed in silence as both men concentrated on their plates. It was not until the bills were paid and both men found them outside in the cold January wind did either speak.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Mister Ruttheimer," Jake said putting out his hand. "Thanks for the tip on the country fried steak. It was great. I'll have to bring Helen down here sometime."

"My pleasure was mine, Captain," Charles said shaking hands. "If you want to take the wife to some place really good for dinner, I'd suggest _The Fiddling Crab_ or if you want to indulge in our German heritage, _Café Konigsberg."_

"To be honest," Jake said. "My family comes from Alsace."

"_Der Deutschlandlied_ says that its part of Germany, tooso who are we to disagree?" Charles laughed. "Hang on a second," he added as Jake turned to leave.

Jake watched inquisitively as Charles reached into his overcoat and extracted a business card which he quickly scribbled something on its back.

"I don't know if it will amount to anything but if estate law's your preference here's a firm you can try," he said as he handed Jake the card.

"William Von Rheinbaben," Jake read aloud. "211 Oak Street."

"That's downtown near city hall," Charles clarified. "He's the estate lawyer for most of the old money families in town as well as several of the _nouveau riche _like me. He might be in the market for an associate. I think another one just quit on him."

"That's reassuring," Jake laughed. "But thank you," he continued. "I'll definitely go see him."

"Don't be put off by his manner," Charles said. "I think he was the man for whom they came up with the word curmudgeon but he's honest as the day is long and loyal as a beagle, traits that you have in spades unless my first impression gauge is seriously out of whack."

"Thank you," Jake repeated sincerely.

"We Germans have to stick together," Charles said as he headed into the parking lot. "Good luck, Captain."

*********

"May I help you?"

Jake looked around spotting a woman smartly but conservatively dressed in a pale lavender blouse with a bit of ruffle at the throat and a darker violet skirt. Her hair, done up in a bun, was mostly blonde. Grey eyes stared at him but their twinkle matched the friendly smile on her lips.

"Yes, ma'am," Jake replied. "I was hoping to see Mister Von Rheinbaben."

"In regards to what?" she asked not impolitely.

"I'm an attorney," Jake told her. "I've heard that he might need an associate."

The woman gave him a long look. "You're not a spring chicken, are you, Captain?"

"A secretary who takes her gatekeeper duties seriously," Jake thought. "Well, I guess I'll have to answer the sphinx's riddle if I'm ever going to see Von Rheinbaben."

"I'm thirty-seven," he answered aloud.

"So what's the story?" she asked. "Have you been passed over by the promotion board for the third time so now the army's kicking you out?"

"You're familiar with the army I see but no," Jake replied. "I've only been in five years. I'm transferring to the reserves and looking for civilian employment."

The woman eyed him speculatively for several more moments before visibly relaxing with a deep sigh. She walked over to him with her hand extended. "I'm Mrs. Camphausen."

"Jacob Morgendorffer," he replied shaking her hand briefly.

"The truth of the matter, Captain Morgendorffer," she said quietly. "Is that we could use at least two associates."

Jake smiled. "I was told that he could be difficult."

Mrs. Camphausen smiled in return. "As the old saying goes, a lot of the bark got left on him but he is a very good man if you look past the crust. I have been his legal secretary for nearly twenty years and haven't regretted a day of it."

Jake's reply died when an office door opened and a very short, very bald man in a rumpled tweed jacket walked through into the room. Thick glasses perched on a bulbous nose that dominated a profoundly wrinkled face.

"Who's this," he barked.

"This is Captain Jacob Morgendorffer," Mrs Camphausen introduced. "He is inquiring about the associate's position, Mr Von Rheinbaben."

"Dammit," Von Rheinbaben snapped. "You didn't go behind my back and advertise for an associate, did you?"

"Charles Ruttheimer told me that you might need one," Jake said before Mrs Camphausen could speak. "I took a chance and came down here because Estate Law is what I want to practise."

"Ruttheimer, eh?" Von Rheinbaben said as he scrutinised Jake closely.

"I have a resume with me," Jake said, as the silence grew uncomfortable.

The elderly attorney snorted. "Resumes," he hooted. "Might as well hand someone a copy of _Huck Finn _as little as most of them have to do with reality."

"There is nothing in my resume that isn't accurate," Jake snapped. "And I sure as hell resent the implication."

"You can resent it seven ways from Sunday for all I care," Von Rheinbaben loudly fired back. "I don't know you from Adam so why should I give a damn what you think?"

"Because if I walk out, a bad-tempered, pea-brained gnome like you isn't going to get anyone near as good as me to walk in," Jake retorted. "No matter how much you advertise."

After staring at Jake for several moments, Von Rheinbaben grinned slyly shoving a shar-pei's worth of wrinkles toward his cheekbones.

"Came into my office, Captain," he said.


	8. Chapter 8

Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.

Chapter 8

Lawndale

An early June Friday Afternoon, 1988

Quinn vigorously returned Olga's wave as the young woman backed her car from the Morgendorffer driveway. Jake's wave, while not as energetic, was affable nonetheless for it. The idea of hiring a summer nanny for the girls was not his yet after two weeks he saw the wisdom of it. Daria and Quinn were able to stay at home in familiar surroundings and among friends instead of a day care centre where the choice of companions and activities would not have be theirs to make. It was expensive but it was money well spent in Jake's opinion.

Olga, a Lawndale State University Junior-to-be, proved immediately popular with all four Morgendorffers. Jake and Helen found her conscientious and genuinely caring which eased their minds considerably. Quinn delighted in her because Olga seemed to know a thousand stories and games to amuse her and her friends. They did not even miss the television that Olga refused to allow turned on during the day. Daria liked Olga because, while she always invited her to join in whatever diversion she set up to occupy Quinn, she respected Daria's choice if she wanted to read, be on her own, or play with Jane just so long as she stayed near.

"Let's get your sister," Jake said as Olga disappeared down the street.

"She's at Jane's," Quinn replied.

"Of course," Jake chuckled. Coming home from work, he would usually find Quinn with of any number of little girls. Daria, however, was rarely in the company of anyone but Jane. Helen worried about that but it did not bother Jake. Mary, his older sister, never sought to be popular content with just a close friend or two growing up yet she was very happy. It helped that Mad Dog doted on her as much as he abused Jake.

Together Quinn and her father walked to the Lane house as she filled Jake in on her day with Olga the highlight of which was her and Stacy, a friend of hers from kindergarten, learning to bake oatmeal cookies in the Morgendorffer kitchen with Daria and Jane and inexplicably Jane's twelve-year-old brother Trent joining them.

"Trent?" asked Jake frowning.

"Uh huh," Quinn confirmed. "Olga said he did good."

"He did well," Jake corrected her.

"Uh huh, that too," Quinn said hopping onto the Lane's front stoop.

Jake knocked at the door. As usual, the front door to the Lane residence was unlocked. Jake, however, never could bring himself to walk into someone else's home unannounced.

"Hey, Captain" Trent drawled sleepily when he opened the door.

"Hi, Sport," Jake replied. "I came over to check on Daria."

Trent nodded leisurely. "Yeah, I think they're in Janie's room colouring or sumthin'. Come on in," he added when he realised that Jake was waiting for such an invitation.

"Thank you," Jake replied. "Is your mother still in Taos?"

"No," Trent hesitantly answered. "She called a couple of days ago saying she was going on to Mohave…Monterrey…Montana…I dunno, some 'M' place, Summer took the message. Mom said she'd be back in August or so."

Jake kept his disapproval to himself as he followed Trent up the staircase. That the Lanes were free spirits he understood, he certainly met enough of their ilk over the last couple of decades but the year in Korea re-enforced what he all ready knew, that Helen and the girls were his very life. How Vincent and Amanda could leave their children for weeks on end seemingly on a whim was beyond him especially leaving them in the care of Summer whom Jake would not have entrusted with a goldfish. Her own fatherless twin boys were hellions, running wild without a whiff of a parental boundary. Jake frankly feared for their future and they were only three years old.

Something nagged at Jake's subconscious as he continued up the stairs and down the hall. Something was out of place. He looked around. It dawned on him as they reached Jane's room. It was quiet, too quiet as went the old movie cliché.

"Hi, Daddy," Daria brightly said looking up from where she was lying on the floor, a sketch pad and coloured pencils strewn before her.

"Hi, Captain," Jane said. "We're drawing."

"So I see, "Jake replied glancing quickly at the two drawings. He then took another, closer look. He knew that he was no expert but to him both sketches were startlingly good particularly for two little girls not yet in the second grade. It was a talent that the girls needed an opportunity to further. Jake made a mental note to check into art programmes for children.

"They're very, very good," he told them. "Each of them."

"Thank you, Captain." Jane said a slight blush creeping on to her cheeks.

"Really, Daddy?" Daria asked simultaneously.

"Really, Daria," he said before asking. "Where's Summer?"

"She left," Trent said.

"Where to?"

Jane shrugged while looking over to her brother. Trent's shrug was nearly identical. "Dunno," he answered. "She told Penny to keep an eye on us and left with her new boyfriend."

"And."

"And what?"

"Where did they go?" Jake asked. "And when is she coming back?"

"I dunno where they went," Trent answered. "As to coming back, I don't think she is. She packed most of her clothes and took the boys with her."

"When was this?" Jake demanded.

"Tuesday."

"I'd like to talk to Penny," Jake said. "Is she in her room?"

Trent looked away while he shook his head. "She left yesterday. Said that she was sick of America and was going to live in Mexico."

"Okay," Jake said slowly. "Are you able to get in touch with your father?"

Trent shook his head again.

"You have an older brother, don't you?" Jake asked. "Wendell, isn't it?"

"Wind," Jane corrected him.

"Wind," Jake repeated. "Where does he live?"

"Here when his not in college," Trent answered. "But right now he's backpacking in Canada with his fiancé."

Jake ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. He clamped his mouth shut to keep the burst of profanity that so desperately wanted to escape bottled. "So it's just the two of you here?" he asked Trent and Jane after a moment.

"Yeah," Trent tightly replied.

"Okay," Jake said quietly. "Trent, Jane, I want the two of you to pack some clothes. You'll stay with us until your parents return."

Jane smiled broadly. She and Daria scrambled to their feet and ran to Jane's bureau. An extended sleepover was right up their street. They were determined to get Jane packed before Jake changed his mind.

Trent, however, did not move. He belligerently stared at Jake for a long moment. Jake returned his stare abet with a far kinder one.

"Do you have something you want to say, Trent?" he finally asked.

"I can take care of my sister," he confidently said.

"Quinn, help Jane and Daria, please," Jake said before placing a hand on Trent's shoulder gently but firmly turning him toward the door. "Come on, son."

"Trent," he continued as they walked to the boy's room. "I know that you love Jane and you would do the absolute best you could to take care of her."

"I can," Trent replied.

"No, you can't" Jake said compassionately.

Trent whirled around anger burning in his eyes but Jake held up a hand before the boy could speak. "Please, Trent," he said. "Just do as I ask."

"What do you care?" Trent snapped.

"That's what neighbours do, Trent, they care," Jake replied calmly. "Now let's get some clothes packed and get you and your sister moved, all right? I need to get dinner started."

"No," he barked. "We don't need to go anywhere. I can take care of Janie."

"Trent," Jake began patiently but the boy interrupted him.

"I can take care of Janie," Trent sharply repeated.

"You can take care of Jane?"

"Yeah."

"Answer me," Captain Morgendorffer said in a restrained voice that still demanded attention. "How much food is in the house, right now? Do you have money to buy more? Do you know how to do laundry? If someone broke into the house, what would you do? What about a fire? Do you have extinguishers? What sort of arrangement is there with the utility company? How much first aid do you know? What do you do for shock? Can you recognise a person in shock? Is Jane allergic to anything? What do you do in case of an allergic reaction? Can you drive Jane to the hospital if she got hurt?"

Trent opened his mouth several times but no words came out. He had no answers to Jake's questions. Suddenly, his shoulders sagged in defeat.

Jake draped an arm around him. "Sport," he began sympathetically. "You're a fine young man. The fact that you willingly shouldered the responsibility for the care of your sister shows me that you have the right stuff but it will be better for the two of you to stay at our house until your parents get back. Please, come on over."

Trent took a deep breath. "Thanks," he replied in a voice barely above a whisper. "I was scared but I didn't want Janie to know, ya know."

"I hear you five-by-five," Jake said.

"Huh?" Trent asked in confusion.

Jake chuckled. "Just a military term. It's like saying loud and clear."

Trent gave him a weak smile. "Cool," he drawled. "As scared as I was, I was even more afraid of saying anything because Mom and Dad might get into trouble even though Summer and Penny leaving isn't their fault."

"Let's see if we can keep this on the QT until one of your parents gets back," Jake said. "Hey, a guitar. Do you play?"

Helen stepped from her minivan as the small parade rounded the cypresses. Jane and Daria each carried a bulging gym bag. Quinn awkwardly but resolutely balanced a small box covered with a multitude of bright stickers atop several sketchpads. Trent, with a half-filled duffle bag slung over his shoulder brought up the rear with Jake, a guitar case in one hand, beside him. Helen raised an eyebrow in question.

"Trent and Jane will be staying with us for a while," Jake responded.

"Good," she replied not bothering to hide her relief. She wanted the two young Lanes under her roof ever since their mother left last month. She even offered to take charge of them but Amanda declined. "Penny and Summer are here all day. They can watch them," she told her.

Helen barely stopped herself from giving voice to her opinion about either young woman. As far as Helen could tell, Summer's lack of parenting skills competed only with her lack of common sense and as the last year passed by, she came to realise that what she first took to be typical teen-aged hostility on Penny's part was in actuality a toxic personality. Disturbingly, while Penny poured her bile on everyone in equal proportions, Helen could not shake the feeling that the girl harboured a particular dislike for both of her younger siblings but she knew that saying such things to their mother would not have endeared her to Amanda.

"Is it all right, Mrs. Morgendorffer?" Trent asked.

Helen smiled. "Of course, Trent," she replied. "Why don't we get everyone moved in then go out for pizza."

"Sounds good to me," Jake replied over the cheering of the girls.

"Thank you," Trent said a world of meaning in one phrase.


	9. Chapter 9

Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.

Chapter 9

Lawndale, Maryland/Mossy Creek, Virginia

March 1989

"Okay, Daddy," Helen laughed into the telephone. "Oh, here's Jake now if you want to talk to him. Okay, I love you, too."

"It's Daddy," Helen said extending the telephone to Jake as she stood.

Jake nodded wearily then pecked her on the cheek before taking the telephone. With an inaudible sigh, he sat down in the overstuffed chair that his wife vacated.

"Hi, Dad," he said. "How are you?"

"Oh, tolerable, tolerable," Porky drawled. "Helen filled me in on the swimming exploits of my granddaughters and the neighbour kids you two have taken under your wings."

"Yeah, all four are part of the local AAU swim club," Jake answered. "They had a meet over in Annapolis today."

"That Trent boy sounds like another Mark Spitz," said Porky.

Jake chuckled. "Helen tends to exaggerate just a little when it comes to the kids but Trent is good. It's hard to believe he couldn't swim a stoke last summer."

"He couldn't?" Porky asked.

"No." Jake replied. "He admitted that after I signed everyone up for lessons at the "Y" but he took to it like a dolphin. He won all three of the events he was in today which is great but the important thing is that it's a healthy activity."

"Provides some structure too," Porky said. "And from what Helen said, it is something the boy and his sister need."

Jake paused for a moment. "Parenting is no cakewalk," he quietly said. "I don't agree with Vincent's and Amanda's style but I'd hesitate to criticise them too much."

"I don't have to look any further than your own two girls to know that you have good instincts, Jake," Porky replied. "If you think they're wrong, likely they are."

"Thanks, Dad," Jake replied. "Although I don't know how much credit I can claim for Daria and Quinn. I sometimes think I'm just guessing about what to do most of the time especially with the girls being so different from each other."

Porky laughed heartily. "Welcome to the club," he said. "My three could not have had more diverse personalities if you had designed them. They were like morning, noon, and night."

Jake laughed in return. "I suppose Helen was a handful."

It was several moments before Porky spoke. "Taking in account the decade she spent putting as much distance as she could between us, you would think so," he finally said in a faraway voice. "But looking back on it, Helen really was the easiest of the three to deal with. She was as stubborn as a Missouri mule from the get go but whereas Amy was a contrarian for the sake of it, I could almost always reason with Helen and she was so damn smart she more than once changed my mind with her arguments."

Jake laughed with his father-in-law before speaking. "If I'm wrong about that I guess I'm wrong in thinking that Rita was the one that gave you the fewest headaches," he said.

Porky nodded although Jake could not see the gesture. "Yes and no, really. Rita was such a happy, outgoing, polite child everyone thought that she must be every parent's dream but," he replied than paused for a trice seeking words for his thoughts. "I worried myself sick for years over Rita. She was always so obedient, and eager to please, far too eager. I tried to get her to be more self-assertive but my wife lapped up such blind compliance like a kitten with cream. I feared, justifiably so as it turned out, that she would do anything to fulfil her mother expectations."

"Marrying Jim was a perfect example of that. He was everything my wife wanted in a son-in-law, the right background, a correct profession, a handsome, sparkling presence at cotillions and the like. I really don't know if Rita actually loved him or the ideal that was instilled in her."

"She and Rafe are happy," Jake said.

"Rafe's the kind of man she needs," Porky chuckled. "It took my better half the better part of five years to finally warm to him. Trading a proper southern descendant of Revolutionary War and CSA generals for the Yankee son of an Ohio coal miner was in the same league as the Cubs trading Lou Brock for Ernie Broglio in her mind but she loves their two boys to death and is tickled pink that they named the eldest after me so she accepts Rafe as part of the deal."

"I think that she has yet to warm up to me," Jake said with no small amount of regret. However, than again he thought Helen and my mom do not exactly sit around the kitchen together laughing as they bake cookies.

Porky sighed deeply. "Son," he sadly replied. "I'm not going to lie to you; she hasn't but it's less about you and more about the strain between her and Helen. Those two have butted heads from the time that Helen was knee high to a grasshopper and after all these years the best I can do is to get them to be civil to each other for a few hours at a time."

Well," Jake mused. "You and Rita like me so I got half of the Barksdales in my corner anyway."

"Amy likes you too but won't admit that to save her life," Porky replied. "Anyway, other than successfully raising a pod of porpoises I understand that further congratulations are due you. Helen said that you kept nearly every one of the firm's clients."

"Yeah," Jake replied. "I was…very surprised. I thought most would walk."

Porky chuckled. "They know that you been doing most of the work since you've been there. Clearly, they liked what they saw."

"I was gonna go with most of them are too lazy to look for another lawyer," Jake quipped. "But I like your interpretation."

"Now, Jake," Porky began. "I don't want to hear that kind of fool talk from you. You've earned the trust and confidence that your clients have shown in you in the wake of Von Rheinbaben's death. Don't insult them by believing otherwise."

"Yes, sir," Jake firmly replied.

"That's more like it, son," Porky said.

"I guess…I dunno," Jake said. "I suppose that I still find it hard to believe in myself sometimes."

Porky exhaled audibly. "Yeah," he began. "It's hard to overcome a bad raising but from where I sit you have more than done so."

"Thank you," Jake humbly replied picturing in his mind's eye his father-in-law relaxing in his favourite recliner.

"When do you officially hang out your shingle?" Porky asked.

"Officially?" Jake asked rhetorically. "Probably in a couple of weeks. I have to file some paperwork with the state and since the heirs want to sell the office property I need to find suitable space and hire an associate and a legal secretary also since Mrs Camphausen is retiring."

"Well, take your time on all of them," Porky advised casting his eyes about the den. He paused as a sudden thought came to him. "Can I do something for you?"

"No," Jake replied. "I'm on top of everything but thank you anyway."

"Sorry, I wasn't very clear," Porky chuckled. "What I mean is I'd like for you to have my desk. It's been used by five generations of Barksdale men."

At his end of the line, Jake blinked several times before clearing his throat. "Thanks, Dad," he croaked. "I appreciate it but don't you think you should be give it to Helen instead?"

"No," Porky replied, the sharp forcefulness of his retort tempered by light laughter. "She would see it as an antique. She'd want to have it appraised and insured and stuck in some corner where it could only be reverently approached for the weekly dusting." Finding the sudden image of Helen genuflecting before the desk funny, he laughed again before continuing. "Well, it followed me to Richmond and to Washington but now that I'm retired it is pretty much just gathering dust and that's a disgrace. Casting modesty aside for a moment, over the nearly two centuries that desk has been around a lot of folks have been helped by the work done on it. I reckon you would carry on that tradition."

"Thanks, Dad," Jake repeated warmly repeated.

"You're welcome, son," Porky replied. "I look forward to seeing it in the office of Jacob Morgendorffer, Esquire."

"Before the dogwoods bloom," responded Jake.

"Speaking of trees blooming," Porky said. "The Twins are going to be in Baltimore for three games in early April, a weekend series. I'm thinking about getting tickets for the Saturday game. To my surprise Amy said she'd come down from New York and Rita's crew is on board so how about it? Fourteen tickets are as easy to get as eight."

"Count us in," Jake chuckled. "Are you going to wear your old Washington Senators cap?"

"Of course," Porky joked back. "Can't let those Minnesota boys forget where they came from. Did I ever tell you about me seeing the Senators win game seven of the 1924 World Series?"

"Once or twice," Jake replied thinking about the photograph that hung in Porky's den. Ambrose Junior snapped a picture of his young son with the Senators' second baseman Bucky Harris. Jake knew that the photograph meant more to his father-in-law than all the medals the army showered on him during the war. "But I wouldn't mind hearing about it again."

"Well, I wasn't quite five years old yet," Porky began expansively. "But already crazy about baseball. You know, I was Washington & Lafayette's starting catcher for three years. I was better at football really but my love was baseball. Anyway, the great Walter Johnson was pitching that day."

Lawndale

May 1989

"Jacob Morgendorffer, Attorney at Law. Lauren Brahms speaking. How may we help you? I am sorry, sir, but we don't handle divorces."

Jake smiled wanly. Jacob Morgendorffer, Attorney at Law. The novelty of hearing his secretary say that yet had to wear away. Like his name on the door or on the embossed business cards, he so proudly sent to his mother, sister, and a few of his acquaintances from Middleton or the short-lived commune, it was another symbol of his climb from the pit of his childhood.

The cards even allowed him to put another demon to rest. He sent one by registered mail to his old instructor at Buxton Ridge, Corporal Ellenbogen. The spitefulness Jake felt when he mailed the card to him turned to embarrassment when the old man wrote him back congratulating Jake on his success and asking him to help prepare his will. Jake made a quick trip to Pennsylvania and did the job _pro bono._

The Morgendorffer law firm occupied a three-room suite on the Schaffer Building's sixth floor. The building was the second tallest in town and most of Lawndale could be seen spreading out below. Light from the row of windows flooded a room filled with dark, heavy furniture and wood panelling. Dark, leafy plants dotted the space. In front of the windows, a low slung coffee table sat in the midst of a sofa and two high back chairs all upholstered with forest green leather. Bookshelves filled with legal tomes all but hid the two perpendicular walls. Along the far wall from the windows, an old-fashioned wheeled, swivel chair that Jake was sitting on stood before an even older roll top desk. Across the top of the desk were photographs of Jake's family. One had a brand-new replica Washington Senators cap hung over one corner. From its frame, Porky and Jake beamed at the world. The scoreboard in the background showing Minnesota's six to five victory over Baltimore scarcely month ago.

Jake reached over and powered down the computer and printer. He gently lowered the desktop but did not bother to lock it. Instead, he ran his fingers deliberately across the front of it. With a deep sigh, he grabbed his briefcase and the baseball cap before leaving his office.

Jake knocked on the suite's other office door before walking in. "I'm leaving now, Mr Gupty," he said. Jake retained the marked formality of Von Rheinbaben's office.

"Yes, sir," he nervously stammered. "Anything I should do?"

"Just hold down the fort," Jake replied.

"What if…," the associate began.

"Whatever what if is you can handle it," Jake interrupted. "I would not have hired you otherwise."

"Thank you, sir," Lester Gupty said gratefully.

"Good bye, Mr Gupty," Jake replied.

"Good bye, Mr Morgendorffer," his associate said.

"Good bye, Captain Morgendorffer," Jake's secretary echoed when he turned from around.

"Good bye, Miss Brahms," Jake replied to the skinny twenty year old. "I should be back by Wednesday. If not, I'll let you know."

"Yes, sir," she replied with a nod. "Sir, please accept my condolences once again. I could tell how close the two of you were when your father-in-law was up here last week."

"Thank you," Jake replied sadly. "But he wasn't my father-in-law. He was my father. I just wish…never mind."

"There's never enough time, is there, Captain," Miss Brahms said thinking of her own grandmother who died shortly after Christmas.

"No," Jake quietly replied as he absently rubbed a thumb across the bill of the cap that Porky forgot in the office when he left eight days earlier. "There isn't."


	10. Chapter 10

Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.

Chapter 10

_Lawndale_

_A Friday Evening_

_Late Autumn, 1990_

The Morgendorffer house was tranquil. The effervescent Quinn was gone, spending the night with five other little girls celebrating a classmate's birthday. Jake did not envy that child's parents. He shuddered thinking of riding herd on six chattering dynamos dropped in the middle of the buzzers, flashing lights, and dancing animals of a _Pizza Forest _restaurant followed by having the same six girls hopped up on sugar and caffeine descend upon your house like dwarf berserkers. In Jake's mind, it was a punishment that even _hang 'em high _judges would hesitate meting out to the most harden of criminals. In a just world, it would be the Sisyphean fate of Terry Perry Barlow, the man who unleashed the horror that was the _Pizza Forest _franchises on the unsuspecting parents of an unprepared nation.

Helen also was gone, spending the better part of the last two weeks in Manhattan, helping represent one of her firm's clients in Federal Court. She did not like the separation from her family but knew that a great showing on her part would be a huge boost toward a partnership. The fact that Ms Davis choose her to assist on such an important case signalled that they thought that she had more potential than the other associates in the firm. Helen thought that next Thursday would see the end of the case but there were no guarantees of that happening. Jake missed his wife terribly but secretly hoped that the proceedings continued beyond that day. If it did, he planned to take the girls to see their mother for the weekend travelling to New York on a train, something he thought that the girls would enjoy and he knew that he definitely would.

Only Daria was with Jake. Supper out of the way and Daria's piano practice done, they shared the living room in a comfortable, companionable silence. Daria curled up on the sofa with a book while her father seated in a recliner scanned paperwork that he pulled from his briefcase.

Unknowingly he sighed, just loud enough for Daria to notice.

"What's wrong, Daddy?" she asked.

Jake glanced up perplexed by his eldest daughter's seemingly out of the blue question. "What was that, Kiddo?" he asked.

"What's wrong?" Daria repeated.

Jake shook his head. "Nothing actually," he answered. "I was just looking over some resumes. Mr Gupty is leaving the firm so I need to find another associate and probably another secretary. I know that Miss Brahms has been seeing Mr Gupty and I think that it's getting serious."

"So?"

"Well, Miss Brahms has made no secret of either her desire for children," Jake told her. "Or of her plans to be a stay-at-home mom when she does have them but I'll deal with that when it arrives. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, eh?"

"Why is Mr Gupty quitting?" Daria asked. "He just started last year. Doesn't he like you?"

"No, it's nothing personal," her father assured her. "He went out of his way to make certain that I understood that he had nothing against me."

"Then why?"

Jake sat the resumes down to give his daughter his full attention. "You see, Daria," he began. "Mr Gupty wants to make the world a better place. Before he became an attorney, he was a social worker. He is now going to go to work for non-profit where he thinks that he can help more people."

"You help people," Daria pointed out.

"Yes, I do," Jake replied. "But Mr Gupty wants to help people in poverty and poor people rarely need an estate lawyer."

"Idealist," Daria snorted.

Jake arched an eyebrow. That his just turned ten year-old daughter would use such a word did not surprise him. Daria was unusually clever. The grammar school curriculum scarcely tested her. To starve off boredom, Daria regularly sought other intelligential challenges such as having her mother teach her French and endeavouring to (so it seemed to Jake) read every book in both the school and town libraries. Jake thought that she would start perusing the University's collection before she began high school. To help her stay well rounded, Jake guided Daria toward music with piano lessons and toward art by enrolling her along with her friend Jane who shared her interest and talent in community education programmes for children in crafts, drawing and painting. Helen moreover taught her the basics of pottery after she resumed her own youthful pursuit in the medium.

Because Daria did display a tendency toward indolence, Jake additionally insisted that she participate in some athletics. Originally, Daria swam for the local AAU club but unlike her sister Quinn or their neighbour Trent, she proved to be somewhat less than kin to an otter. Subsequently, she tried football and basketball before hitting upon the winning combination of Jake's twin sporting passions tennis and golf. It proved to be a happy blend of exercise and the chance for father and daughter to spend time together.

In light of all of that, Daria using the word idealist did not surprise Jake but the sarcasm in her tone as she said it did take him off-guard. "Why do you think Mr Gupty is wrong?" he asked.

Daria closed her book after noting the page number and sat it on the end table as she formulated her thoughts. "I heard Mom once say that no good deed goes unpunished," Daria said. "I think that she's right. Every time I try to help someone at school, they get mad at me."

"Do they get mad at you or do they get frustrated at themselves for not being able to understand what it is you are trying to explain to them?" Jake asked.

"They yell at me," Daria replied. "I don't care why. All that counts is they do."

"It's difficult to remain open to people, Daria," Jake said. "Sometimes the maxim 'people are no damned good' seems to be the truest thing ever said but to get the grain we have to shift though the chaff."

Daria grunted. "I rather be left alone."

"The world rarely allows us our desires," Jake pointed out. "Besides, there is something that feeds the soul when we help someone else without it being quid pro quo."

"Without it being what?" Daria asked.

"Quid pro quo," Jake repeated. "A Latin phrase. It means something for something. What I mean in this case is helping someone without expecting any favour or gain in return. Simply helping someone because they need it."

Daria folded her hands under her chin while thinking. "Such as you and mom watching over Jane and Trent so much," she said after a moment.

"Well, yeah," Jake replied. "I suppose. It's not a very dramatic example but the small considerations that we show our brethren do help make the world just a little better."

"Like the President talking about a thousand points of light."

"That's right, kiddo," Jake answered. "No one person can change the world but sometimes, Daria, with something as simple as a smile you can ease someone else's burden just a little and change your own small corner of the world for the better."

"Dad, c'mon," she said in disbelief. "A smile."

"Yeah, a smile," Jake replied. "A smile acknowledges someone. When you're lonely that is very powerful comfort and can be enough to help get someone through his day."

"So I don't smile much," Daria snapped. "It's not like I'm being mean to everyone, Dad,'

Jake held up a hand before Daria's tirade could continue. Helen regularly exhorted her eldest daughter to smile more often which was a sore spot for Daria her father understood. "No, Kiddo," he said calmly. "You'd scare people if you suddenly started grinning at them. They'd probably think that something evil is sneaking up behind them."

Daria laughed before asking, "What do you want me to do than?"

"Just be a little more open," he replied. "And maybe a little slower to judge."

Daria nodded in understanding but her face clearly displayed her apathy to the idea. "What you want is for me to start being friendlier to more people."

Jake chuckled at her utter lack of enthusiasm for the concept. "No, Daria," he said. "At least, not like what you're thinking. I don't expect you to become everyone's best friend. The truth is you're like me in one respect; we're both pretty much loners. We like to keep people at arm's length with only our family and a friend or two close to us."

"You do?" Daria asked in surprise. "But you're with people all day."

"Yeah, Kiddo, I am" Jake laughed. "I have dozens of clients and there are dozens of people who work in the same building or who are in my unit or whose path I cross frequently but in reality, the only friends I truly have are Charles Ruttheimer and the Yeagers although I haven't seen Coyote and Willow in ages."

"Jane's my only friend," Daria ruminating on her father's confession absently said. "And I guess Trent."

"You guess?" Jake asked.

Daria waggled her head. "It's not the same. It's more like he's my older brother too."

Jake smiled. "An older sibling's not a bad thing to have," he said.

Daria who had yet to find any advantage in being the eldest shrugged. "I suppose."

"The point I'm trying to make, Daria," Jake said getting back on track. "Is that you don't have to be everyone's best friend but you should treat everyone with kindness and should not dismiss their dreams or ideals just because you don't share them."

"I would not make the decision Mr Gupty has but I respect his choice. It is his life and he should walk down whatever path he sees fit unless logic and experience eventually proves it to be wrong."

"Okay but than if that's the right thing to do," Daria began. "Then it's okay to think someone is an idiot until they prove they're not."

"Well, that's one way to look at it," Jake replied trying to rapidly think of an argument to stem the tide of the heretofore unsuspected budding cynicism of his daughter. "There is nothing amiss about being cautious about people but to my mind based on my experience, the better way is to give them the benefit of a doubt, assuming the best in them until they show otherwise."

"Why?" demanded Daria.

Jake sighed. "Have you heard the term self-fulfilling prophecy?"

Daria shook her head.

"What it means is that basically we find what we look for in people, situations or ourselves," Jake said. "If you expect someone to be an idiot, then you seek out proof that he is one."

"Of course," Daria replied.

"Yeah but what happens, Kiddo, is that our minds colour what we see to fit what we expect," Jake responded.

Daria frowned. "What we see is what we see."

"No, we don't," Jake replied. "As the Jesuits are famous for saying 'Truth is perception.' Or to put it another way, we don't see what our neighbour sees when he looks upon the same thing."

Daria shook her head vigorously. "Something is what it is," she forcefully said.

"Am I tall?" Jake asked.

Daria opened her mouth to reply but quickly shut it as she narrowed her eyes. After a moment, she nodded slowly. "I would say that you're tall," she replied. "But a basketball player wouldn't even though you are the same."

"That's right, Daria," Jake said. "We always need to take the time to try and see through the other fella's eyes. He might surprise us."

She sighed. "All right," she said. "I'll…try"

Jake chuckled. "Daria, I love you just as you are. I don't expect, heck, I won't want you to be 'Miss Congeniality'. Like I said, just keep an open mind about people and maybe give them a helping hand when you can."

"I love you, too, Dad," Daria said reaching for her book. "But I still think that being a hermit would be easier."

"Easier, yeah," Jake replied picking up the resumes. "But unless God himself has led you to the desert, it would be a very empty life."

_Tydings Elementary School_

_Lawndale_

_The Following Monday_

Jane and Daria stopped in the middle of the hallway. Jane shook her head.

"I wish we in the same class," she said as she had for at least three times a week since school resumed in August.

"Hopefully next year," Daria replied. She missed having Jane sit beside her as she had for the first three years of school but was more inclined to accept a situation that she could not change.

"Yeah," Jane drawled in return. "See ya at lunch. Sloppy Joes today."

"Yippee," Daria intoned blandly. "See you."

"Wouldn't want to be you," Jane replied over her shoulder as she pushed open the door to her class.

Daria watched her friend disappear inside before walking to her classroom next door. Her desk was halfway down the first row. The desk behind hers was empty but behind that one sat a slender boy with unruly black hair. As usual, he was staring at one of his text books, today his math one, like an ape would stare at an aircraft carrier.

Daria emptied her backpack and started to sit down. She stopped.

"Darn it, Dad," she muttered exasperatedly under her breath as she turned around.

"Is something wrong, Kevin," she asked in an almost pleasant tone.

Kevin looked up. "I just don't get it," he whined plaintively.

"It's multiplication," Daria thought. "What's not to get?"

"What's the problem?" she asked aloud.

Kevin shook his head as a melancholy mask slid onto his face. "I'm just stupid like everybody says."

Daria slid her chair beside Kevin's desk and sat down. "You're not stupid," she assured him. "You just having some trouble getting this, is all. Let's see what we can do."


	11. Chapter 11

Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.

Chapter 11

_Lawndale_

_Mid winter, 1994_

The Wakefield Middle School Parent Teacher Student Association meeting ground to a merciful halt by eight-thirty. As usual, the ninety minute gathering could be boiled down to the PTSA officers being mock humble exaggerating the amount of work they did and the time they sacrificed on behalf of the children before segueing into exhorting parents to get more involved in extra curricular activities and cough up more money to fund this, that, or the other thing. Overall, somewhat less newsworthy than the latest Ebola outbreak but with both of his daughters attending the school Jake felt an obligation to be there just in case something of importance was addressed.

Jake looked about the auditorium as he slid on his jacket. Across the room, he spied his youngest daughter chatting with some friends. His wife and eldest daughter begged off being present. Helen had some work to do and Daria said that she needed to count her toes. Jake groaned thinking about the excuse. A digit survey he thought would have been a better use of time then listening to Mrs Lagrange haranguing about how few parents were at hand as if somehow it was a calculated personal insult directed at her.

As he grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, Jake saw Miles Rowe, the father of Quinn's friend Stacy, pointing at him. The seven people with Miles all nodded and made a beeline for him. Curious, Jake zipped up his jacket while he waited for the small band to troop over to him. Miles he had known for several years now. A crackerjack machinist, he owned a fairly successful business and usually managed to get around Lawndale Municipal Golf Course in the mid eighties.

"Hey, Jake," Miles said. "Got a minute?"

"Sure, Miles," he replied. "What do you need?"

"You know Frank and Kate Moreno, Hugo and Billie Jo Tyler, Wilbur and Yvonne Campbell, and Edie White, don't you?" Miles asked.

"I have not had the pleasure of meeting Mr Tyler before," Jake said extending his hand.

"Sergeant Tyler," corrected the tall, lean, balding man with a wicked looking scar across his cheek that ended where an earlobe used to be as he shook hands. "Lawndale PD but call me Hugo. You probably haven't met me because I work a lot of evenings so I don't get to many of these."

"Or been arrested by him," Frank joked.

"Always that," the cop wryly said. "Miles says that you're not bad for a lawyer."

"Hugo," his wife said in exasperation.

Jake chuckled. "Miles says that only because I'm not a trial lawyer."

"You fork over a hundred and fifty grand because some pizza delivery guy cuts himself on a piece of metal and see how you feel," Miles said forcefully. "Hell, it's a machine shop. Keep your damn eyes open. Freaking bleeding heart judge."

"I understand." Jake replied mildly.

"Aw, nothing about you Jake, you know that," Miles said waving a hand. "Sorry for ranting. It just still makes me madder than a wet hornet thinking about it."

"Can't blame you," Frank said. "I gotta carry a ton of insurance on my deli just in case someone finds a hair on a sandwich or sumthan, ya know."

Edie cleared her throat.

"Okay, yeah," Miles said. "Look, Jake, you know when we were talking a couple of months ago over at Cranberry Corners."

Jake nodded. "You were looking for some blue topaz earrings for your girlfriend."

"She's my fiancée, now," Miles admitted bashfully. "Asked her Saturday night."

"Congratulations," Jake replied.

"Thanks," he said. "She's fantastic and she and Stacy get along great. A girl needs a mother, you know, and Stacy about to get to an age where she's gonna be asking questions about stuff I don't know nothing about. "

Edie cleared her throat again.

"Okay, okay," Miles said. "What I meant Jake is we were talking about sidewalks and the Maple Avenue Park and well, just how our side of town gets screwed over constantly. I know we're not Crewe Neck but we pay taxes too. You had a good take on things like I told everybody here."

"Cutting to the chase," Edie said rolling her eyes. "We want you to run for the Board of Aldermen for our district."

Jake blinked in surprise. "Excuse me?"

"Don't put on an act, Jake," Miles said. "You'd be great. We need someone who will look out for our side of town and you know about law and finance and taxes and all that."

"I don't even belong to a political party," Jake said.

Sergeant Tyler snorted. "Like the man said, 'there ain't a dime's worth of difference between the two parties' and besides, we're talking the Board of Aldermen not the governorship."

"Although the incumbent is a Republican," Edie said. "So it would probably be better for you to run as a Democrat. You got a problem with that?"

Jake shook his head. "I've voted Democratic as often as Republican."

"Good," Edie said although her face betrayed her thoughts about a single vote cast for the Republicans. "I don't expect an answer right away, Jake. Take a few days and talk to your wife. If you're in, I'll host a meet and greet at my house, oh, let's say a week from Friday."

"Edie's on the Democratic Party's County Executive Committee, you know," Miles supplied.

"No, I didn't know that," Jake admitted.

"Please, tell me that you at least registered to vote," Edie said.

Jake smiled. "I haven't missed an election since I turned eighteen. It's a privilege to be able to vote for your government."

"Good," Edie said brightly. "You're a soldier, too, right?"

"Active Reserves," Jake verified.

"Good, good," Edie said. "That helps with the independents and one less issue for the opposition to exploit."

Jake took a breath. "I have to point out that you really don't know much about me. I might have ideas that you don't agree with."

Edie laughed. "I'm sure you do," she replied.

"I inhaled," Jake said.

"I was a heroin addict a couple of lifetimes ago," Edie countered. "But let me point out two things, Jake."

"Shoot," Jake said curious as to what she had to say.

"I was actually thinking about you as a candidate even before Miles brought you name up tonight," Edie began. "I've see you here, at School Board meetings, and at Board of Aldermen meetings. That tells me that you care about what's going on which goes a lot further with me than some idiot who looks at being an Alderman as a stepping stone to being President."

"Second, you seem to get along with most everyone here," she continued. "And people here like you."

"Okay." Jake slowly said a little surprised by her revelation.

"Most everyone here are working stiffs," Edie said. "Blue collar or small business owners but your firm deals daily with the big money types. Plus, you're a vet. Do you belong to a church?"

Jake nodded. In the aftermath of his father-in-law's death, he found himself drifting back to the church of his youth. Occasionally, his wife and eldest daughter would join him but like the PTSA meetings, it was usually just him and Quinn. "Saint Wenceslaus Lutheran," he replied.

"And a stable family man," Edie said. "You bridge a lot of groups, Jake. If we created a candidate from scratch, we'd come up with something pretty close to you."

"Handsome, too," Kate said not entirely joking. "You have my vote already."

Edie smiled than sobered. "As I said, take a couple of days to think about it and, at the risk of losing you, let me tell you what a political consultant told me several years ago when I first got into politics."

"Which was?" Jake asked.

"His advice to people seeking local office was threefold," she began. "First, do you have about a dozen friends and family that'll knock on doors, hand out flyers, that sort of thing. You practically got that right here."

"Second…"

"You like lists, don't you," Frank laughed.

"You don't kick H without being methodical," Edie retorted.

"Or methadonical," Sergeant Tyler deadpanned.

Everyone groaned as Billie Jo said, "Oh, Hugo, that was terrible. Edie, I'm sorry."

"Forget it, Billie Jo," A grinning Edie began again. "Anyway, second, you need to be able to raise five thousand dollars. I guarantee you could get twice that amount without leaving the room. Third, think of the three most embarrassing things in your past. Can you handle it if they appeared on the front page of the _Lawndale Sun-Herald _tomorrow?"

Jake laughed.

"No, Jake, seriously think about it," Edie said. "Trust me, if its there, it'll be found and it'll be right out in the open for your wife and girls to read right along with your neighbours."

Jake nodded.

"Good," Edie said satisfied that Jake was heeding her words. "Give me a call in a few days one way or another."

"Sure," Jake replied.

One by one, they all shook his hand before leaving him alone in the middle of the room. Jake twirled his _Washington Senators _ball cap on his hand before putting it on his head. Lost in thought, he did not notice Quinn had joined him until she spoke.

"I'm ready to go, Daddy," she said.

"Anywhere you need to go before we head home?" he asked as they turned for the exit.

"No," she replied. "What did Stacy's dad want?"

_Morgendorffer Residence_

_November 8. 1994_

The house was abuzz with energy. More than thirty people crowded into the parlour. Most were busy chatting and munching on hors d'oeuvres although a dozen hovered around the television avidly watching the returns. Groans erupted more often than cheers as the extent of the Republican victory nationwide became more apparent. Before their very eyes both houses of Congress were passing into GOP control for the first time since 1948.

For the partisan assembly, the rare bright spots were in Maryland itself. The Democratic Governor was winning an easy re-election along with their Democratic US Senator and all of the Democratic incumbents in the US House. Unfortunately, the party could not dislodge the Republicans from any of the House seats they held in the state.

Jake purposely spent some time with everyone present. To his amazement, several people volunteered to help his campaign whom he thought barely knew he existed. The purple and grey _Morgendorffer Alderman District 1_ signs with an eye-catching logo designed by Daria and Jane sprouted like mushrooms after a rain from one end of the ward to the other thanks to their efforts. Not a single home in the entire district failed to get any of the flyers or the pamphlet they put out in the final week before the election. Win or lose, he wanted everyone to know that he appreciated their labours; that the faith they showed in him genuinely touched him.

Helen sidled next to him giving him a peck on the cheek. "I haven't been this excited about an election since Daddy's first run for the House of Delegates," she said. "He would have been very proud of you. I know that I am and the girls are, also."

Jake smiled and kissed her. "Than I've won already," he said.

Edie White walked over clutching a tall glass. "Rough night," she said. "I can't believe people are putting those idiots in control. Times like this ginger ale just don't cut it."

"One day at a time," Jake replied kindly.

"Yeah, yeah," Edie said as she sipped. "If I didn't fall off the wagon when Reagan won, I don't think I'll do it now."

She glanced at Helen, giving her a long speculative look. "I met your father once," she said. "Back in '75."

"Really, now?" Helen asked.

"At an Earth Day rally of all places," Edie replied. "We were down in DC protesting the pollution in Chesapeake Bay when he came over and talked with us. He was a little too reactionary on social issues but he was correct when it came to the environment. He really knew his stuff."

"Daddy had a deep love of the land," Helen said.

Edie nodded. "Have you ever considered running for office?"

"No, Edie, I haven't," Helen laughed. "I think one politician per generation is enough. I'll stay on the sidelines with a rose in my mouth cheering on Jake."

"He's a good one to cheer for," Edie said finishing her drink. "Damn, I could use something stronger."

"We've got root beer," Jake replied.

Edie squeezed his arm and move away.

Moments later, Daria called him from where she was sitting on the couch. "Dad, KSBC is switching to the local races."

Thirty people instantly went silent as everyone turned to the television set.

"In the Oakwood municipal elections," the news anchor began.

Whatever the results were in Oakwood were lost in a loud group groan. It was several minutes before he finally said. "In Lawndale."

Jake found himself leaning forward. "With one hundred percent of the precincts reported, Republican Mayor Gwen Hathaway was won re-election with fifty nine percent of the vote."

Edie muttered something into her root beer. Jake chose to believe she said mucking witch.

"In the District One Alderman's race," the anchor continued as the room grew still. "Again with one hundred percent of the vote tallied, Democrat Jacob Morgendorffer has defeated three term incumbent…"

The television's volume was no match for the bedlam that erupted. It seemed to Jake that everyone was slapping him on the back and grabbing his hand at the same time. Helen slipped through the throng and pulled him into an ardent hug. Trent and Daria leaped from the couch. He spun her around before planting a big kiss on her lips. He turned to high-five his friend Jesse leaving a very stunned girl in his wake.

The hubbub died slowly. "Speech! Speech!" A dozen voices called as soon as the racket settled below ear piercing.

"Say something to your constituents, Alderman Morgendorffer," Helen whispered to him.

Jake beamed as Quinn pushed an ottoman over for him to stand on. Running a quick hand through his now mussed hair, he stepped onto the stool to the cheers of everyone present.

"I'm thinking of that famous line from _The Candidate_ where Robert Redford's character wins the election than turns and asks 'What do I do now' of his manager," Jake said. "Well, for me that's easy. I listen to you and work hard for you and that's what I'm going to do!"

Edie sipped her soda, a feral grin forming on her lips. "See you in '98, Gwen Hathaway," she thought to herself.


	12. Chapter 12

**Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.**

Chapter 12

_Lawndale _

_A Friday in_ _March 1995_

Jake, a pair of orange plugs visible in his ears, waited impatiently in the wings of the main stage of Lawndale's Recreation Center as the ninth of nine groups competing in the _Spring Fling Battle of the Bands _butchered ten thousand years of human musical heritage. Jake rubbed his nose just to assure himself that the noise had not induced bleeding. _Neck Tourniquet _as they billed themselves could have made _The Sex Pistols_ sound like _The Moody Blues _in comparison. Melody was unknown to them. They banished Harmony. Jake supposed that they had rhythm. The drummer at any rate beat on his kit much as an ancestor of his might have pounded two stones or tortoise shells together. He supposed that he could kindly say that it was an experiment in atonal Avant-garde rock if he was not so certain that it was simply a matter of the quintet being horribly incompetent musicians.

Jake shook his head. The only reason that he was at the contest in the first place was that Trent asked him to be there to hear Trent's band, _Samodiva_, which he formed with a girlfriend the previous summer, but what Jake proposed God disposed. The scheduled host, a local DJ, managed to plow into a stop sign on his way to the event. The half-empty bottle of Johnny Walker in the floorboard of his car cast doubts on his story that he swerved to miss an old woman with a walker.

Kathy Muller, Chairman of Lawndale's Parks and Recreation Commission, quickly corralled Jake to be the emergency fill-in emcee the moment she spotted him coming through the door with his eldest daughter and her friend.

"Please, please, please, Jake," she begged. "I can't get up there. I'd pass out."

"I can't be a judge," Jake told her. "My neighbor is in one of the bands."

Kathy waved one hand frantically while shoving a clipboard at him with the other. "You don't have to," she said. "The audience votes by applause. All nine bands are on here."

"I'm hardly Johnny Carson," Jake replied.

"No but you are here and sober," Kathy answered.

_Neck Tourniquet's _third and final 'song' ended with the bassist yanking at the strings of his Ibanez, the drummer pummeling a cymbal with his fist, and the guitarist dancing on a wah-wah pedal as if he was Baryshnikov but most people were watching the contrabassoon player writhing about the stage as the vocalist licked his instrument.

Jake plunked the plugs from his ears and stepped out onto the stage thinking that the applause must be deafening because he could not hear it although he could hear laughter.

"Thank you," he said lightly clapping one hand against the clipboard. "That was _Neck Tourniquet_, our final act of the evening. Now you yourselves will decide who has won 1995's Spring Fling Battle of the Bands. As I call the names of the groups, cheer for your favorites."

Jake quickly ran through _Little Willie and the Danglers, North Pole Penguins, Samodiva, Expelled from Bayside, Abandoned Pier, Leaves of Grass, Fake ID, Cheeky Lad, _and ingrained in his memory with no hope of ever forgetting this side of Alzheimer's _Neck Tourniquet_. He liked _Leaves of Grass_ the most but _North Pole Penguins_ and _Expelled from Bayside_ captured the hearts of the young audience although Jake was pleased that Trent's band got a respectable amount of the ovations.

Standing near the front of the stage with her arms folded across her chest Kathy discretely flashed four fingers. With a barely discernable nod, Jake leaned into the microphone. "Very, very close according to our sophisticated meter," he said. "But by a hair _Expelled from Bayside_!"

Kathy extended to Jake a small plaque that she extracted from her purse. With a beaming smile, Jake presented it to the winning sextet as a photographer from the _Sun-Herald _snapped his picture. KSBC also captured Jake on videotape present the award. The next morning, both brought a smile to Edie White while Gwen Hathaway's husband suffered through a rant from his wife about upstarts and her people not letting her know that the media was going to be there.

Jake maneuvered through the crowd of young musicians pausing to shake hands and to pass along words of praise and encouragement.

"These bumpkins aren't ready for the future of music," growled the vocalist of _Neck Tourniquet_ as Jake greeted her. "All they want is to be spoon fed pop pap."

"Artists are rarely accepted at first," Jake said smoothly. "It takes time for the masses to appreciate genius."

"Yeah, that's true," she replied. "Hey, you're pretty cool for an old guy."

"Thanks," Jake answered slipping by her.

Jake spied Trent standing with Jane and Daria out on the floor. More than a few people, mostly girls, Wandered over to Trent flashing smiles and bestowing hugs. Jake chuckled. It was fortunate that Trent's jealous girlfriend, Monique, was nowhere around or she would be on them like a cat after mice.

"Hey, Captain," Trent drawled as Jake eased his way to them. "What did you think?

"I thought that you did well," Jake said.

Trent nodded slowly catching the subtle stress that Jake placed on the word you. "Yeah, thanks," he replied.

"From the applause, I think that you finished third," Jane said.

Trent shook his head. "No more than fourth, fifth maybe," her brother replied. _"Leaves of Grass_ I think was third."

Daria snorted. "Shoegaze has come and gone."

"Yeah, but they were tight," Trent responded. "Cool lyrics, too. I wish I could write like that."

"I don't like bands that give themselves some drug reference name," Jane said. "It's like we're supposed to automatically think they're edgy and dangerous."

Jake squeezed her shoulder affectionately. "Come over to the house tomorrow," he chuckled. "I'll introduce you to Walt Whitman."

"Do you mind if I come over?" Trent asked.

"Sure, sport," Jake replied. "You're always welcome."

"Thanks," Trent said looking past Jake. "There's Monique now. I gotta go. Bye."

"Well, girls," Jake began after Trent left. "It is still early. What would you like to do?"

_ "_Mess with drunks on Dega street_,"_ proposed Jane.

"Drag racing down by the quarry," Daria suggested.

"Go down to Seven Corners and watch cars crash," Jane countered.

"Satan worship at High Hills Park," Daria shot back.

"How about really cutting loose and getting some banana splits?" Jake asked.

"Risky, Dad," Daria replied. "If the press got wind of it, your political career could be over after only two months."

"I'd just blame demon rum and enter rehab," said Jake. "Although you would have to stand by me teary-eyed at the press conference."

"Now that's living on the edge," Jane said. "Let's get to Baskin-Robbins."

Lawndale

The following Saturday

"Have a seat," Jake said to Trent as he sat down on an overstuffed chair in his den. "What's on your mind?"

Trent dropped himself onto a small sofa. He paused collecting his thoughts. "I had a blast last night even if we didn't win," he finally ventured.

"That's cool," Jake replied. "So what's the problem?"

A small sigh of exasperation escaped Trent. "On one hand I really like being a musician," he began. "It's not about some ego trip or anything. I like playing music. I mean, really like it. It feeds something inside, ya know."

"I get that," Jake replied. "What's on the other hand?"

"I got three scholarship offers so far," Trent said. "Free rides to some good universities. I know kids that would give up body parts for that. I'd be a fool to pass it up."

Jake frowned. "I don't see the conflict."

"If I go off to school, I'm walking away from the band," Trent explained.

Jake looked inquisitively at the teenager. "Is it the band or Monique?"

Trent rubbed a hand over his hair. "Monique is the band really. She writes the songs, does the vocals, handles the arrangements, plays rhythm guitar."

"What do you get out of it?" Jake asked.

"I get to play better songs than I can write," Trent replied.

"I have never heard a song that you wrote," said Jake. "How many have you composed?"

"Not many," Trent replied shrugging. "They don't fit _Samodiva's _style."

"In other words, Monique didn't like them," Jake guessed.

"Well, no, she doesn't," replied Trent. "Ballads are the only thing that I can write halfway decent and…uh, ballads don't fit Monique's vision of the band."

Jake leaned forward. "Sport, you're wanting my advice, I take it."

"Yeah."

"Okay," Jake began. "Personally, I'd hate being a professional musician. It is very difficult to make a living simply being a musician. The record companies and venues control the industry not musicians. If you're lucky enough to get a contract, you have to be very, very careful about what you sign. Plus, you're talking about spending forty years or more touring months at a time if you can't get enough local gigs that'll keep body and soul together."

"So don't do it," Trent said dejectedly.

"No, I'm not saying that," Jake replied. "I'm just making sure you look at the whole picture. That being said, the happiest people in the world are those whose vocations and avocations are the same. I love what I do. Helen steering me into the law was one of the best things that ever happen to me. If being a musician is your path to happiness then, by all means, walk it but give yourself every chance to succeed."

"How?"

"First, accept the scholarship to which ever university has the best music program," Jake said. "Learn the craft although getting a business minor wouldn't hurt. Having an ace in the hole is always good."

"Most of the bands that hit it big don't go to college," Trent pointed out.

"Yeah, true," Jake agreed. "But you have a desire to get better. I heard the longing when you spoke about _Leaves of Grass_ last night and I can tell you that you won't get better by shackling yourself to someone who actively discourages you."

"She doesn't discourage me," Trent said.

"Monique is the band," Jake quoted. "Doesn't sound like a hothouse of collective creativity to me. Anyway, that's my take on it. What you do is up to you. You're an adult now."

Trent nodded as he rose. "Thanks for listening, Captain."

"Anytime, Sport," Jake replied.

_ Millie's Diner_

_ Lawndale_

_Mid April_

Hey, Captain," Trent said when he spotted Jake entering the café.

"Hi, Sport," Jake replied. "What's up? What did you want to see me about?"

"Thought that I'd buy you lunch, ya know," Trent said. "Just to say thank you."

"Never turn down a free meal," Jake laughed. "But what are you thanking me for?"

"For helping me make up my mind about college," Trent said.

"What are you going to do?" Jake asked.

"Table for two, please," Trent said to the hostess.

"Keep me in suspense," Jake quipped as he fell in behind Trent.

Trent waited until they sat down and the server had gotten their drink orders. "Frankfort College," he said simply.

"In Pennsylvania?" Jake asked. "That's not too far from where I grew up," Jake said in response to Trent's nod. "I almost went there instead of Middleton, in fact."

"It has the best music department of any of the schools that offered me scholarships," Trent said.

"Yeah, I remember their choir from when I was a kid," Jake replied. "They used to perform all over the country. Even sang for Eisenhower in the White House once."

Trent took a long sip of the Dr. Pepper that the server sat before him. "Actually, Captain," he said. "I want to thank you for a lot of things. Mainly, I guess, just giving a damn. Dad's practically a stranger and Mom's…well, Mom is Mom. Even when she's here, she really isn't but since you guys moved in, it really hasn't mattered. You and Helen have…ah, hell, I love you guys, ya know and I appreciate all that you have done for Jane and me."

Jake nodded. "Helen and I love you and Jane, too. You remember that. As long as we alive, you have someone you can turn to."

"I'll keep that in mind when I'm a starving artist," Trent joked.


	13. Chapter 13

**Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.**

Chapter 13

_Christmas Day_

_Bonnejean Farm_

_Loudoun County, Virginia_

Jake followed his sister-in-law's husband Rafe outside into the fading light of the cold winter day. A sharp wind tugged at their overcoats as snow crunched beneath their boots but neither felt the chill bundled as they were against the season's wrath. A cardinal, its bright red plumage contrasting sharply with the deep green leaves of the cedar tree that he rested on, eyed them curiously as the pair walked silently across the back yard past the pond to the fence of posts and field wire. The large pasture beyond was empty. The goats, sheep, and horses that the Bonnejeans kept were safe and warm in the large barn.

Rafe swiped some snow from the top of one thick post then folded his arms over it. "I used to dream of winter days like this when I was in Viet Nam," he said after a moment.

"Had a vet, a medic who was stationed up near the DMZ for a year, tell me that he dreamed of canned pineapples," Jake replied. "I guess you guys thought about anything that wasn't there."

Rafe chuckled. "Pretty much. You come to appreciate the little things."

"Yeah," Jake agreed. "You put in an owl house since I was here last."

"No, it was here last time you visited," Rafe said. "The boys and I put up three in February; that one there, one up on the ridge, and one down by the creek. There are nesting pairs in all of them. We put up some bat houses, too"

"I don't see how I could have missed it," Jake said.

"Probably the foliage hid it," Rafe said. "We had a blast building them and putting them in place."

"Beats having them play computer games all day," Jake responded.

Rafe shook his head. "Some of the kids they go to school with…I think they have a permanent case of carpel tunnel. They don't know jack about nothing but can kill mutant aliens by the bushels."

"Do Ambrose and Trey play on the computer much?" Jake asked.

"No, mostly they rather be outside. If they're not running around the forest like their Iroquois ancestors they are playing baseball or soccer or riding their bikes," Rafe said. "If they're inside, they're generally reading books."

"You're part Iroquois, eh," Jake said. "I never knew that."

"Yep, on my Dad's side," Rafe acknowledged. "Seneca to be exact and one of my Mom's great-great-great grandmothers was Shawnee." He paused a moment before continuing. "Hearing other parents talk I guess I got lucky. Ambrose and Trey are good kids, regular Hardy Boys, smart, polite, obedient but still adventurous. Everything that you'd want in a son times two. It helped that Rita was already an experienced parent. Maybe it's just Barksdale genes. Erin has her head screwed on straight. I don't suppose that I can claim any credit for that."

"I suspect you can," Jake replied. "You're the one she calls Dad."

"Thanks," Rafe said. "I won't deny that I was nervous about becoming a step-father. Over the years I knew too many couples broken up because kids from previous marriages objected to mom or dad's new spouse."

"Yeah," Jake agreed. "Relationships are tough enough. You don't need any hostility within the family."

"Your girls doing all right?" Rafe asked. "How's Daria liking high school?"

Jake chuckled. "Bored for the most part," he said. "But she did manage to get me called for a 'consultation' within three hours of starting class."

"C'mon, you're joking," Rafe replied. "Daria's a good kid."

"She is," Jake confirmed. "But she can have a smart mouth at times."

"And that's what got her in trouble," Rafe guessed.

"Yeah," Jake began. "One of her teachers on the first day asked the students what were their plans for high school. Daria's reply was that she planned to leave behind the drug fueled sexual excesses of middle school and devote herself to the noble pursuit of pure knowledge in hopes of getting an Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred Shot Range Model Air Rifle for Christmas."

He chuckled. "I was in the principal's office before lunch."

Rafe laughed loudly. "So instead of just saying 'you'll shoot your eye out', she got up on her hind legs. Bureaucrats have no sense of humor."

"It's more along the line of the principal, Dr. Li, wanting Lawndale High regimented to the nth degree," Jake replied. "Her ideal school runs like a piece of clockwork, everything standardized and efficient and students with all the individuality of Model T's."

"She'll fail in the end," Rafe answered as snow began to fall. "One thing I learned in business is what works for the army doesn't work elsewhere. You have to use different methods for different environments, different missions."

Rafe stopped talking. He took a long careful survey of their surroundings satisfying him that they were alone before slowly running both hands down his face as he took a loud, deep breath. "Jake, let's get to the reason I got you out here," he said quietly as his body sagged against the post. "I'm dying."

"Dying," a disbelieving Jake repeated blinking as an errant snow flake landed on his eye. "Dying!"

"Yeah," Rafe slowly drawled. "I haven't told anyone else and I don't want anyone to know until after the holidays but I'd like to review my will. I know that you're good at your job but I just want to be certain that all the i's are dotted and all the t's crossed."

Jake shook his head several times trying to absorb the shocking news. "Yeah, sure, Rafe," he stammered in turmoil. "Just name the time."

"Thanks," Rafe said. "As you know we're heading for the Caribbean tomorrow for a week. I'll give you a call after we get back to set up an appointment."

Jake glanced back at the sprawling nineteenth century farmhouse. Light flooded from each ground floor window but no one was watching them. "When are you going to tell Rita and the kids?" he asked.

"After we get back," Rafe told him. "I just want everyone to have some good memories first."

"Old Hoss," Jake said sympathetically. "You've given them years of good memories."

Rafe shook his head. "It's not enough," he said forlornly. "It's…it's…I don't want to say unfair because I got a lot of years some of the guys I served with didn't but…I don't want to go. I want to grow old with Rita. I want to see my sons become men. I want to walk Erin done the aisle. I want…I just want."

"In my line of work, I've heard more than one say the same thing," Jake kindly replied. "How long are we talking about?"

"Spring, maybe" Rafe replied standing straighter. "I should to be around for Valentine's Day but how far beyond that I just don't know. The doctors tell me that the cancer is unusually aggressive and too far gone."

Jake wiped at his eyes. "Aw, dammit, Rafe," he said huskily.

"Yeah, well, that just about sums it up," replied Rafe his own eyes welling with tears. "We are taught that we go to a better place and I believe that but God knows I don't want to leave. The boys are only nine and ten. And Erin, I could not love that girl more if she were my own. And Rita… I cannot begin to tell you how happy I've been since she came into my life."

He glanced over at Jake. "You know," he began. "I don't think that I ever thanked you for introducing me to her."

"You're welcome," Jake replied. "Although to be honest, I didn't expect you two to get married. I was thinking maybe a couple of dates or so. Rita needed to get away from babies for a few hours and you struck me as a standup guy."

"I picked the right university to get my MBA after I retired," Rafe quipped then sighed. "All things for a reason, I suppose."

"So we're taught," Jake replied echoing Rafe's earlier words.

Rafe nodded then pointed out toward the pasture. Jake's eyes followed to where a Whitetail buck and three does were cautiously making their way to the pile of hay and salt licks that Rafe and his sons placed out to help wildlife through the long winter. Both men remained silent lost in thoughts and memories as the small herd ate.

Daria with her coat, hat and boots on came out to the back porch. She spied the vague dark masses of her father and uncle in the distance. She studied the snow that was beginning to fall heavily from nearly black sky but decided that crossing the vast backyard would not put her in danger of following Captain Oates into legend. Stepping gingerly from the porch she carefully picked her way toward them by stepping into their tracks in the otherwise deep unbroken snow.

Hearing the snow crunch beneath Daria's hesitate steps, the deer looked toward her, their tails wagging in instinctive warning. There was no wind to bring her scent to them and no moon to illuminate her but the amount of time between paces told them that whatever she was she was too far away and too slow to catch them. Deciding that she posed no danger and having eaten their fill the herd leisurely made their way back into the forest beyond the meadow.

"I hope that you've had a good Christmas, Daria," Rafe said jovially when she finally made it to the fence. "Even if you didn't get the Red Ryder BB gun."

"So Dad told you about that," She laughed. "But even without getting the air rifle I had a great time, Uncle Rafe," she continued. "I always like coming to your farm. It's peaceful out here."

"The commune to work is a hassle but it's worth it," Rafe said. "Some people hate to be anywhere that concrete isn't underfoot but I get a sense of peace out here that I can't get in a city."

"I know what you mean," Daria replied. "Maybe I ought to start saving so I can buy a place like this as soon as I'm out of college. So what have you two been talking about out here?"

Jake snaked an arm around his daughter "The joy of being fathers," he said not untruthfully trying to match Rafe's nonchalance.


	14. Chapter 14

Jacob Morgendorffer, Esq.

Chapter 14

_Lawndale_

_June 1997_

Daria cut a quick peek at her parents sitting next to her in the pew. She was safe. Their eyes were on the bride slowly marching down the aisle. The bride, a niece of one of her mother's law firm partners, was practically a stranger. The groom was. She wished them the best but the lead story in the newspaper was far more interesting to her. Daria carefully unfolded the copy of the _Lawndale Sun-Herald _that she snuck in under her jacket.

_**Mayor Indicted**_ screamed the headline. The mayor in question was Lawndale's own Gwen Hathaway. Almost from the time of her first election she, along with several others in the municipal government, _allegedly _scammed money from the city by awarding contracts to a dummy company that they set up for that purpose. Lawndale's City Clerk, Chief Financial Officer, and the Chairman of the Planning Commission submitted their resignations within the last month. The Mayor herself so far refused to resigned but with her confederates, each in desperate hope of having the hammer fall a little lighter on them, co-operating fully with the legal authorities it was only a matter of time.

Daria glanced at her father proudly. He was the one who uncovered the swindle with a little inadvertent help from her and Jane. He spent months carefully gathering the proof, judicious that was irrefutable, before he went public. Once he was satisfied of that, he announced at a meeting of the Board of Aldermen the previous March what he learned. The legal beagles of the city, state and federal governments as well as the media pounced on it.

Overnight Jake became the symbol of honest politics. It was a foregone conclusion that the Board of Aldermen would elect him mayor to fill out the remainder of the current term the moment Hathaway resigned but the energetic Edie White networked like a hummingbird on caffeine ensuring that his name cropped up in connection with more than just the probable chief magistracy of a small suburb. Party officials mindful of the massive positive media coverage eyed him for the Maryland House of Delegates, State Attorney General, even the US House of Representatives. Rumor was that Congressman Sacks took the threat of Jake challenging him in the next primary seriously enough to show up for all of his committee meetings and House votes sober for two weeks in a row. Yet Jake, with modesty unbecoming of a politician, waved off much of the acclaim stating that it was only by chance that he picked up the trail.

_Lawndale_

_Late March 1996_

"Hey, Alderman!"

A grieving Jake who choose not to go into work that day snapped out of his reverie. Lost in his thoughts about Rafe he paid scant attention to where his feet were taking him. He quickly scanned the area orientating him to where he was and trying to spot who called out to him.

"Hey, Alderman. Over here."

Jake spied Doug Thompson waving from the middle of the Maple Avenue Park. He was standing by a cement mixer as two masons lay cinder blocks nearby.

"Hi, Mr. Thompson," Jake said as he came abreast the workers.

"Hey, Alderman," Doug said for a third time. "You look like a man whose favorite dog ran off."

"I buried my brother-in-law yesterday," Jake answered simply.

Doug blushed a deep red. "Aw, dammit, man," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's all right," Jake assured him.

Doug shook his head. "I guess the two of you were pretty tight," he said. "Now my brother-in-law, I can't say I'd like to see him in the ground but if he decided to move to Australia I'd gladly help him pack."

"Is this going to be the performing arts gazebo?" Jake asked wanting to move away from discussing Rafe.

"Well, of course it is," Doug drawled. "What did you think? Hell, man, I was told you were the one who got the city to approve it."

"I was," Jake replied watching the masons hard at their task. The gazebo was a project dear to him. Jake hoped that it would give his side of town a positive focal point to enhance the sense of community though concerts in the park, festivals, and other gatherings.

Jake had few fond memories of his childhood in his hometown of Wendland, Pennsylvania but those he had mostly centered on the gazebo that stood in the village square. Santa Claus made annual appearances there to kick off the Christmas parade. Jack o' lanterns winked at him from the gazebo on Halloween and the snow that settled on its rails always seemed to make the best snowballs. Jake watched puppeteers, politicians, preachers, brass bands, folk troupes, magicians, string quartets, and ventriloquists all perform for the crowds that gathered with their picnic lunches on warm summer days. Best of all were the times that his grandfather Albrecht's oom-pah band played.

"Don't you worry none," Doug said. "It'll be solid as a rock. It'll stand a century or more. I guarantee it."

"I have no doubts," Jake replied politely.

"That's one thing about being a carpenter," Doug expanded. "You can leave behind stuff. Sixty or seventy years from now my grandkids can point at this, or the boathouse, or the shelter at the dog park and say 'my granddad built that'. Makes you proud, you know."

"You built the boathouse?" Jake asked a curious expression ghosting across his face. "You should be proud."

"Thanks," Doug replied as he scooped out cement filling a pail that one of the masons held out to him.

"You're the subcontractor, I suppose?" Jake asked causally after a few moments.

Doug chuckled slyly. "Sure," he replied. "I bid on this project but lost out to JKI like I did on the boathouse. I got no complaints though. I ended up making more money on both jobs than if I'd gotten the bid."

"JKI give you a call?" asked Jake.

Doug shook his head. "Naw," he replied. "It was that planning commission dude, Franklin. He came to the house. Said JKI needed a local guy and I was it."

"Good for you," Jake said. "I hope that you got a lawyer to look over the contract."

Doug snorted. "No contracts, man," he said derisively. "Cash on the barrel head. No need for lawyers or the IRS to stuck their noses into it. Meaning no disrespect to you, of course."

"None taken," Jake said. "Just remember to squirrel away a little for retirement."

"No need," Doug laughed. "That boy of mine is gonna be a quarterback in the NFL. He's my 401K."

"He's got a pretty good arm," Jake said noncommittally.

"Friggin' cannon," Doug said with pride. "Ya' know he's nuts about your daughter, what's her name, Darla. Thinks she walks on water."

"It's Daria," Jake corrected him.

"Yeah, that's right," Doug replied. "I keep telling Kevin that he don't have to worry none about grades. He's the QB after all but you know kids, they gotta do things the hard way. So he keeps running to her to have her explain this or that."

"Knowledge is power," Jake said.

"Maybe but I tell you what, Alderman," Doug chuckled. "Put a straight A student next to a kid that can drop a ball into a running receiver's hands at forty yards and see which one gets a scholarship."

"Can't say you're wrong there," Jake agreed.

"Damn straight," said Doug.

"I'll let you get back to work," Jake said shaking the carpenter's hand. "Kathy Muller already has plans for this gazebo."

"It'll be ready before May is here," Doug promised.

_Lawndale_

_Late October, 1996_

Jake tapped his computer's keyboard typing in the encryption code to the security program that his eldest daughter installed for him over the summer. The information and plans of his clients deserved all of the protection they could get but the data he sought had nothing to do with his firm.

He scanned the file when it opened. Six months of diligent investigation rested in it but there was nothing concrete. He knew something was not kosher with the awarding of the city contracts but the books appeared to match. In the end, he had only his suspicions, the name of the owner of JKI Construction, Judy Kate Ives, and a post office box in Dover, Delaware.

Jake rapidly minimized the screen when his office door opened.

Daria smirked as she and Jane walked in. "Hi, Dad. As quick as you hit the keyboard, I guess you're looking at porn."

"Hardly," Jake said closing he program in a more leisurely manner. "Why aren't you two in school?"

"Teacher admin day," Jane replied. "I don't really know what they do but, hey, it's a day off for me."

"So you thought to indulge in the heady excitement of wills and probate," Jake said.

"That's right," Daria replied. "The fact that we arrived at lunch time is a mere coincidence."

Jake chuckled. "I suppose that springing for lunch at _Millie's _wouldn't endanger this month's mortgage payment."

"Actually, Dad," Daria began. "We were hoping that you'd take us to _Leapin' Lizards."_

Jake stood and straightened his tie. "Alright, I'll bite. What is _Leapin' Lizards?_"

"It's a pizzeria by Lawndale State," Jane supplied. "After the school teams, you know, the LSU Lizards."

"Yeah, I get it," Jake said ushering the girls toward the door. "So, no more Pizza King?"

"It's good to expand your horizons," Daria said. "Besides once you start high school, it's never too early to begin looking at universities."

Jake glanced at the two of them. "Why do I get the feeling that a boy is involved somehow?"

"Oh, so you haven't heard the lesbian rumors?" Daria quipped.

"Speaking of lesbians, guess who enjoyed a girls' night out on occasion?" Jane piped up as they neared the elevators.

"A fair amount of women, I suspect," Jake said, a few images from his old commune springing into his mind with starling clarity. "But it's no one else's business what consenting adults do."

"No one cares who's gay anymore," Daria replied. "But I think that it is duplicitous to have a public persona at odds with a private one."

"Sexual orientation matters to a lot of people still," Jake said. "And not many people want their entire life to be an open book."

"Yes, but you don't have to be hypocritical about it," Daria replied.

"It's not hypocritical to try to keep some of your life private," Jake said. "Hypocrisy would be if I told you 'just say no' then disappeared into my office with a fifth of Jack and a doobie every evening."

"Yeah but you admit to having dabbled in drugs in the past," Daria asserted with moral certainty. "It's fraudulent to have done something and pretend otherwise."

"Everyone deals with their past in their own way," said Jake. "Just try a little understanding and compassion."

"It's nevertheless wrong," Daria replied stubbornly as the doors opened on an empty elevator.

"Kiddo, you're still young," said Jake putting a fond arm around her shoulder guiding her into the conveyance. "The day you do something that you profoundly regret come chat with me."

"Sure," Daria replied skeptically.

"How did we get this subject anyway?" Jake asked

"I was going to tell you about these two old guys that rode up in the elevator with us," Jane said. "One of them mentioned the Mayor and the other one laughed. He said that she might act like butter won't melt in her mouth now but he remembered when a new to town West Virginia hillbilly named Gwen Ives was slinging drinks at the Nook while batting for both teams."

Jake frowned. "Gwen Ives?"

"Her maiden name, I suppose," Daria answered.

_Morgantown, West Virginia_

_February, 1997_

A young woman sliding into the booth interrupted Jake's perusal of the diner's menu.

"You kept your end of the deal," she murmured without preamble. "I got the job. This damn state can kiss my ass 'cause Philadelphia, here I came."

Jake nodded. He did not like the woman, a certified nursing assistant at a long term care facility for severely mentally handicapped adults, nor did he like the bargain he made with her but she could get information that he could not so he made a couple of calls and enlisted the aid of a friend. A nursing home in Philadelphia gained a CNA and he was going to get the data he sought. Jake knew that, at best, he was in a grey area legally but he did not bother arguing with his conscience that it was for the greater good. He would sleep as soundly this night as the one before.

Looking furtively around the restaurant, she slid a floppy disc across the table to him. "All there is to know about Judy Ives," she whispered.

"What's the Cliff Notes version?" Jake asked in a normal tone as he put the diskette in his jacket pocket.

The woman shook her head. "Total retard. She's almost forty but can't feed herself, dress herself, nothing."

"Sign her name to a contract?" Jake asked.

The CNA grunted rudely. "She can't talk let alone write. If anything needed signing, her uncle would do it. He has whatchacallit, power of attorney."

"Not her mother?" Jake asked.

The woman shrugged as she stood. "Don't know nothing about whys or hows that. Well, I got some packing to do. Bye."

Jake took a long sip of coffee after the woman left. He could now prove that the supposed president of JKI Construction was both Gwen's Hathaway's daughter and completely incapable of making any decisions. He could not track the money but the police could and would as soon as the matter went public. Jake did not doubt that they would find it in the mayor purse.

Jake shook his head sadly. Integrity he thought was like virginity; once it was lost, it was gone forever. Gwen Hathaway traded her honor for mere money and not very much money at that. No matter what she did with the rest of her life, the name of a corrupt politician would be hers.

"You look down in the dumps, hon," the waitress said when she scooted to a stop by his booth.

"Just thinking of bad choices people make," he replied.

"A bad choice here would be the meatloaf," she joked while refilling his coffee.

"How's the chicken fried steak?" Jake asked.

"Best between here and the next place," she replied.

_One Observatory Circle_

_Washington, D.C._

_June 2019_

Free at last Jake thought as he knotted his tie. He knew that he was unhappy and had been from the beginning of the administration but the vastness of the relief he felt stunned even him. I should have resigned far earlier he mused instead of waiting for a 'crossing the Rubicon' moment to force the issue. He did not bemoan breaking the tie vote in the Senate killing the President's pet project, the cornerstone of her vision for a new United States, but lamented the ensuring uproar expected though it was. His beloved country did not need more aggravation that is why he submitted his resignation effective upon the swearing in of his successor, which was due to take place in the west wing in twenty minutes. He would not attend.

When a misty-eyed Helen entered their bedroom, Jake was looking himself over in the standing full-length mirror. Still a handsome man she thought. Straight and slender with a winning smile he even now cut an appealing figure despite his nearly seventy years. His once dark brown hair had long since turned white but it remained thick. Since his retirement from the Army Reserves a few years earlier, he let it grow out some. It swept back from his forehead coming to a rest at the nape of his neck. More the one member of the media used the word leonine when writing about the Vice-President.

He beamed when he caught sight of her in the mirror. "Hey, no sad faces, now. I've been looking forward to this day for weeks," he said. "For over two years if I'm honest."

"No regrets?" she asked smoothing one lapel.

"Only that I acceded the office in the first place," he replied. "I didn't want it but too many people I respect asked me to."

"She never respected you," Helen said archly refusing to speak the name of the current occupant of the White House.

Jake sighed. "No, I suppose not," he admitted. "And I can't say that she was ever high on my list of favorite people either going all the way back to our days together in the National Governors Association but I had hoped that we could at least remain civil."

"You could have voted in her favor," Helen pointed out.

Jake shook his head. "No," he said. "That bill would have been disastrous. I honestly believe that as bad of shape as our country is if it had become law, it would have killed it. Half the state legislatures were seriously considering votes of secession."

"A lot of people want you to run in 2020," Helen said.

"To quote a comedian portraying one of my predecessors, 'not gonna happen'," Jake replied.

"Why not?" she asked.

Jake sobered, the smile falling from his face. "The country's in dire straits," he said. "And I don't have the answers. I am old and tired. I know that I'm likable but the people need more than that. They need someone with ideas. Someone young, dynamic, and energetic who can make them believe in America and themselves again."

"Good luck on that one," Helen said shaking her head.

"Yeah," Jake said gloomily but a small smile returned to Jake's lips.

Helen arched an questioning eyebrow when she spotted it. Jake winked in return.

"What…" she began but Jake stopped her question with a small cutting gesture. Helen looked around. She would not put it past the President to bug their bedroom. She could wait for answers.

Trent, for a few more minutes Assistant to the Vice-President and Director of Communications, knocked on the open door. "Hey, Colonel," he drawled. "Everyone's downstairs waiting on you."

"Hopefully the mood's not too funereal," Jake replied lightly.

"Everyone's a bit down," he said. "What do you expect? You're a hero to a lot of people and you're being tossed out like last night's leftovers."

"I resigned," Jake replied.

"Like you had a choice," Trent snorted.

"I did not have to resign," Jake said. "And the President could fire me. I could have stayed on."

Trent shook his head. "Honor would not have allowed you to, Colonel."

"No, it wouldn't," he agreed following his wife out of the bedroom.

Kevin Thompson met the three of them at the bottom of the staircase. Although like the others he knew this day was coming for weeks, he could not keep the tears from his eyes. He had been with Jake for years after his brief professional football career rising from aide to Lieutenant Governor Morgendorffer to Chief of Staff of Governor then Congressman then Vice President Morgendorffer. The leadership, people, and organizational skills he acquired from sports translated well into the world of politics even more so than his degree in Political Science or his MPA.

Like so many others, he wanted Jake to run for President but knew that Jake meant it when he said that he would not do so. It was the end of the road. Kevin forced a smile onto his face but it did not fool Jake who pulled the younger man into a heartfelt hug.

"We done some good, hoss," Jake told him.

"Yeah, we did," Kevin concurred in a voice husky with emotion.

"And you're going to do some more once we get you in the House," Jake said.

"If I get elected," he replied. "I'll do my best to live up to your standards, sir."

"Oh, aim higher than that," Jake laughed. "Live up to Kevin Thompson's standards."

The reception was brief. Jake spent the last several weeks saying his good-byes to his staff and doing his best to see that they all got new jobs so there was little to add. A few final hugs and photographs and some last parting words before an even pithier press conference and Vice-President Morgendorffer and the Second Lady were no more. Private Citizens Jake and Helen left Washington behind. Their daughters and grandchildren awaited them at home along with a few close friends. The barbeque grills already fired up. The food being ready and their arrival would coincide.

"So just who are you working for in 2020?" Helen asked as they entered Maryland.

From behind the wheel, Trent chuckled. "Damn Colonel, you do play it close to the vest, don't you?" he rhetorically asked glancing in the rear view mirror.

Jake shrugged unapologetically.

"You know," Helen asked again. "So who is it?"

"Guess," Jake mischievously said while squeezing her hand.

"Jake," Helen shot back.

Trent chuckled again. "Let's just say that you were the Second Lady, Helen, which isn't bad," he began. "But we want Janie to go you one better."

Helen looked at her husband in disbelief. "Tom Sloane?" she asked. "But he's a Unionist!" she added referring to one of the two parties to emerge from the shattered pieces of the Republicans after the Tea Party tore it asunder.

"Yeah," Jake replied. "But he was a hellava Senator and he's been an even better Governor. I believe absolutely that he's the best hope for this country. If anyone can stop the slide, he can."

Helen looked unconvinced.

"Look," Jake continued. "The Democrats are not going to turn the President out and that Artic moron will probably get the Constitution Party's nod. Four years of either one of them and you can kiss the USA good-bye. We'll disintegrate as fast as the USSR did."

"If we can get the Unionists to nominate Tom and then get him elected, maybe our grandkids can still grow up in the United States."

"You honestly think that it's that bad?" she asked.

"Baby, I know it's that bad," he replied sadly.

_Lawndale_

_That evening_

As the sun set behind the treetops, the last guests left as did her earlier gloom driven away by family and long-time friends. She could not say that she hated Washington but being out of the fish bowl was sweet. No more having to guard her tongue or putting on a polite face. Helen sat on a rocker on the back porch sipping an iced tea while surveying the cleanup. Her daughters plus Trent and his ten-year-old daughter Holly forbade her and Jake from even the least thought of helping.

Helen hid a smile behind her glass as she watched Daria and Trent work together. They moved in perfect harmony without realizing it. Holly made no secret that she wanted the divorced Daria to marry her widowed father. Helen wanted the same thing. She never warmed to her ex-son-in-law. For the life of her, she could never see what Daria saw in him but whatever it was could not survive him cheating on her.

Jake, an old battered Washington Senators replica ball cap on his head, stepped out onto the porch with a telephone in his hand and Quinn's twin boys bouncing around him. Spotting Helen, they ran to her as quickly as their toddler legs would allow. Laughing, she scooped up the two of them.

"Quinn, it's Steve," he said holding out the phone. "He's in Los Angeles. He's pitching tonight. I wonder if it's going to be on television?"

"Thanks Daddy," Quinn replied taking the phone. "You have that Major League package, remember. You can see any game you want."

"Cool," he said sitting down beside his wife.

He watched Trent, Daria, and Holly for a few moments before looking over to Helen.

"It'll happen if we don't say anything," she said.

Jake nodded. "What about you? He asked. "What would you like to do for the rest of our lives?"

"Maybe a little traveling," she mused. "But just staying here puttering around in my garden has a lot of appeal. How about you?"

Jake smiled. "I want the same thing that I wanted since 1968; just to be where you are," he said as he leaned over to kiss her.


End file.
